Day and Night
by TheSilverSleeper
Summary: When Merlin and Arthur are captured by slavers, Arthur is surprised when he is sold back to Camelot without a second thought. Merlin, however, is kept for other purposes. Will they ever be able to get Merlin back, especially when the one who bought him has such a tight control over his magic? And what exactly does his new owner want with him anyway?
1. Chapter 1

**_(A/N: If you've just come across this, I apologize for the construction mess. I'm reformatting and combining chapters. Hopefully things will be cleaned up in a bit. I simply have a tendency to start off with really short chapters and suddenly morph into giant ones, so hopefully things will read a bit smoother this way. I'm checking through to make sure I did this right, but message me if something uploaded wrong and the chapters are in the wrong order.)_**

**_Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin, I wouldn't be as buried in student debt as I am._**

* * *

Chapter One:

Merlin was going to rename the Valley of the Fallen Kings. He thought the Valley of the Stupid Prats was a much better name. Or perhaps the Valley of DON'T GO HERE. EVER. Maybe _then_ Arthur would finally listen to him next time.

Of course, it wouldn't matter if they never got to have a next time.

The bandit who'd been stationed to watch them leaned against a nearby tree, lazily cleaning out the undersides of his fingernails with his dagger. The rest gathered around a growing fire, discussing something quietly.

Merlin hadn't quite figured out yet why they had bothered to build a fire. It was the middle of the day; the sun was still high in the sky. The air around them was still rather warm, in fact, stiflingly so. He himself was quite glad he and Arthur had been tied up well away from where they were building the flames.

"You think they're planning to cook us?" he muttered only half-jokingly out of the corner of his mouth. He'd been boxed about the head earlier for speaking, and as his ears still rung from the treatment, he had no desire to repeat the experience. Merlin didn't know why they hadn't been gagged if they didn't want them talking, but it hadn't been done, and he wasn't about to complain about it. Luckily the two had been tied up back to back with a sturdy rope, with their hands tied separately in between, so quietly murmuring back and forth wasn't too difficult so long no one saw.

"I doubt it," Arthur whispered back. "After all, they're not blind. They can see a meal of you would be nothing but bones anyway."

"That's reassuring; thank you."

"I live to please."

Merlin rolled his eyes. If that were true, they wouldn't be here now. Arthur would have listened when Merlin said he had a bad feeling about the path they were taking through the woods. He could just tell the bandits were out there. Then when they'd been attacked, and he and Arthur had been separated from the other knights and captured, the feeling had not only been confirmed, but oddly intensified. There was something off here. And it was all about that fire.

Suddenly one of the bandits broke away from the small huddled group and walked towards the horses, opening a saddle bag and pulling something long and thin from it. He brought it back over to the group. Another discussion took place, shorter this time, then the rest of the men left him, this time making their way towards Merlin and Arthur.

The man who'd been "watching" them stopped picking at his nails and stepped forward, still with his dagger out. "Are we cutting 'em loose?"

"Only 'cause Fulcher thinks blondie'll kick up a fuss."

"Course he will. He may be a pampered princess, but he ain't that pampered."

Of course, this was the moment Arthur would choose to speak up. "Look, do what you wish to me. I will cooperate fully with you. But let my servant go. He has nothing to do with any of this."

Merlin struggled not to roll his eyes again. _Typical Arthur. Always trying to be the hero._

"See, told you he'd kick up a fuss."

"Yes, yes, you're very smart. Torrence, cut the ropes, Fulcher, Elrig, get ready with the new ones. We'll tie 'em up to the trees. Guess we probably shoulda done that in the first place."

It was when they said this that Merlin realized that by "cut them loose" what they really meant was "separate them." Well, that at least made more sense. He'd been trying to figure out why they would capture them only to let them go an hour later just because they thought Arthur might be upset. From his experience –which was rather more extensive than he would have liked– that was not typically the way these kinds of things went.

It was clear, however, that if either of them were going to "kick up a fuss," however, together they had subconsciously decided now was the time to do it. As soon as their bonds were broken they launched themselves away from their captors, trying to make a run for the woods. Unfortunately, however, the bandits had anticipated just such a reaction, and had them in their grasp immediately, hauling them towards the trees and retying them in minutes.

Merlin could still see Arthur. They had been tied opposite each other, perhaps a few meters away. He had a large red mark on his face where Merlin had a feeling he'd been punched into submission. He didn't like to admit it, but Arthur _was_ much stronger than he was in the muscular sense. He'd probably fought much harder to get away.

_He'd better hope they really don't plan on eating us, because he's right; he definitely would be first._

Merlin was drawn from the morbid thought as he felt his arms being wrenched out from behind his back, scraping against the tree through his shirt and jacket. With more sawing of the blade, the ropes holding his wrists together were being cut too. Merlin spared a quick glance at Arthur. The king was not receiving this same treatment this time.

The second his hands were free, Merlin aimed a punch at the grimy man. He knew it wasn't the smartest move –after all, he was still tied up here, with no real hope of getting away–, but it was the principle of the matter; he would show Arthur he was no weakling either. He felt a surge of pride as it connected with the man's face, and he reeled back with a snort of surprise. That pride waned a bit as he was rewarded with a punch of his own, one delivered with twice as much force as he could muster, causing stars to explode in his eyes.

"I'd think twice about doing that again, you little brat!"

Merlin hardly heard Arthur's protests to leave him alone over the renewed ringing in his ears. His vision swam a bit, and he shook his head to try to clear it. Of course, that did absolutely nothing for the pounding headache. When he could make out the sight of the king again, he could read fury in every line of the man's body, and not just at their captors.

"Don't _antagonize_ them, _Mer_lin!" he snarled. Merlin held back yet another eye roll. Trust Arthur to be annoyed with him when really, this was all his fault. Really, if Arthur could just be the one to beaten up for a second, he'd be distracted at least, and then Merlin could use his magic, and they'd be out of there in an instant. But no, Arthur kept trying to be noble and _protect him_ by being good and now they were rolling up Merlin's sleeve–

They were rolling up Merlin's sleeve.

Coming back to himself, Merlin yanked his arm away. "What are you doing?"

"Now, now, boy. The less you fight it, the less it'll hurt. At least that's what they tell me. Never had it done myself."

If there was one thing Merlin was excellent at, it was not doing as he was told. Each time another bandit reached for his arms, he wrenched them from their grasp. Growling in frustration, they produced more ropes and began tying up his wrists again, this time out to his sides around the tree, his sleeve on his arm still rolled up to his elbow.

There was movement by the fire. The fire. Merlin had forgotten about the fire.

The man with the long, thin object was walking over him with it in his hands. He held it away from him now. The end was cherry red. Involuntarily, Merlin let out a low whimper.

Arthur was yelling again, but Merlin didn't hear him. He didn't hear anything but the pounding in his ears as he helplessly watched the heated rod come nearer and nearer to his exposed arm.

And it was in the brief second before the brand touched his skin and the searing white terror of pain left no more room for thought that Merlin realized. These were not bandits.

These were slave traders.

And they were marking their property.

* * *

Merlin had passed out within half a minute of them removing the brand. Arthur knew deep down there was something wrong with that. He'd never actually seen it happen to another person before, but he'd heard accounts from other victims. The process should have caused Merlin unbearable pain, but he shouldn't have become unconscious so quickly.

After he had finished yelling himself hoarse, cursing the bandits into oblivion, Arthur had steeled himself for them to come and do the same to him, but they just tossed the rod aside. He gaped, not sure what to think. The man he thought might be the one called Fulcher frowned and picked it up where it lay on the ground, causing the leaves around it to smoke.

"You trying to start another fire?"

"What does it matter? We're leaving now anyway."

"Take it to the stream and cool it off." That man was the one who had given all the orders and seemed to be the slavers' leader. Arthur knew it was important to quickly identify who was in charge in these kinds of situations. "I paid good money for that thing. I'm not leaving it behind, not when we see it works so effectively." He looked appraisingly at Merlin's slumped form in a way that made Arthur queasy. So it _was_ supposed to do that. Arthur wondered how long it would be until he woke up.

"Why him?" Arthur knew he had to ask it, even if he was tempting the circumstances. "Why brand him and not me?"

The leader stalked over to him, taking Arthur's chin in his hands and forcing it upward. "_Because_…" he snarled. "_Your _buyers would prefer to see you unharmed, whereas _his_," a smirk crossed over his features, "would prefer to see him _manageable_."

Merlin and manageable were two things Arthur would certainly never put together in the same sentence. His terror for his servant and friend grew. Then another thought hit him. The plans they had for the two of them were separate. "What do you mean?" He phrased it as broadly as possible to try to get the most information he could.

"Well, no one wants a disobedient slave, do they? And I hear tell that brat of yours is as disobedient as they come. But no worries. We'll break him of that habit soon enough. And if not, well, I'm sure we'll get enough out of you to make up for it."

Arthur really hoped that didn't mean what he thought it did. He didn't get a chance to ask another question, however, because the leader was already turning and calling to the man called Torrence. "Right. Now, blondie," Arthur _really _wished he would stop calling him that, "I'm going to write a letter, and you're going to sign it, neat as you please. Just your name will suffice."

One of the men handed him a quill and a bit of parchment, holding out the inkwell and turning automatically without so much as a silent order so the man could use his back as a table. Arthur couldn't help but be warily impressed. Somehow this man had garnered the utmost obedience from his men, either through fear or respect, he wasn't sure which yet. The leader wrote his letter out of Arthur's eyesight, but it seemed to contain many flourishes. He gritted his teeth as he wrote, occasionally sticking his tongue out to the side as he thought, reminding Arthur a bit of Merlin. He shook his head to clear the thought. Merlin was _nothing_ like this brute.

Finally the man appeared to decide his masterpiece was complete. He relieved his human table and walked back over to Arthur. "Your signature, please, sire."

Arthur mustered all the condescension he could muster. "And how do you expect me to write with my hands tied behind my back?"

The leader raised an eyebrow coolly, obviously unimpressed by his show of arrogance. "You're a king. You'll figure something out."

Arthur grunted in pain as he wriggled his arms to the side, working his hands over so that he might have a space to try to grip the proffered quill. The men around him smirked as he struggled. The leader crouched next to where his hands were slowly making an appearance, holding the quill just out of reach. "Almost there. There you go. Keep going…"

They let out a rowdy cheer as his fingers brushed the feather. Gareth let him do that a couple more times before he grew bored with his game, thrusting the quill into his hand and turning the king's body enough that he could write a legible signature, one that resembled his normal one enough to be recognizable.

"Torrence, take this to the city. Leave it with the sword just outside the wall. Make sure you aren't seen."

_The city. Camelot?_ They wanted his signature… for proof of life? The man had said the people they were selling him to would want him unharmed. Were they going to ransom him back to Guinevere? But they were slavers. Slavers didn't usually tend to work in ransoms.

_Slavers sell to the highest bidder. I guess they think Camelot is the highest bidder. Don't complain._

But now he just had to convince them to sell Merlin back there too.

He didn't get a chance to say anything, however, as Fulcher and the other man were coming back from the river, continuing their muttered argument over the branding rod he guessed from the way they kept gesturing to it. Their return seemed to be a signal to everyone else.

The leader turned from him to the rest of his crew. "Alright, enough mucking about! Load up the horses. Someone wake up the brat. Fulcher, tie his majesty up to a lead. And just you remember, blondie," he hissed quietly, swinging back to him, eyes narrowed. "Your brat won't fetch me_ that_ big a price."

Arthur heard the warning loud and clear. _Try anything, Merlin dies._ He nodded his head in understanding.

Three men came to hold him down while the rope that held him to the tree was sawed apart. Then they untied his hands and retied them in front of him, using his old bonds to create a leash anchored off his wrists. Fulcher did as he was bid, tying him up to one of the horses to be led along like a pack mule.

Another couple of grimy men were kicking at Merlin, who wasn't stirring. The shortest of the two reached down and slapped him across the face a couple of times. Merlin's head lolled, but other than that he still didn't move. Arthur bit back the urge to show his displeasure. Any move on his part would mean even worse punishment for Merlin.

"Hey, Gareth! He won't get up! That thing weren't supposed to kill him 'fore we could even make a profit."

_Gareth. The leader's name is Gareth_. Arthur stored the information away for future reference as Gareth stalked over to Merlin to inspect him. "He's not dead." Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Seems that charm's got more power than we thought. You lot really better not lose that thing now, or you'll be the next ones for sale." He said it so calmly Arthur had a feeling he had often sold members of his crew before, either for mistakes or just because he wanted the money. Now he knew where the obedience came from. Then Gareth stood and flapped his hand indifferently, "Anyway, we're running out of time. Either toss him on a horse or wake him the same way you put him out. Fire's still going a bit. Just don't use the charmed side. The pain should rouse him shortly."

Arthur blanched. He couldn't be serious. He knew exactly which one they were going to choose, too, because there were no extra horses, and none of these hardened men were going to share their beast with the unconscious servant, let alone give it up for him while they walked beside it.

"Please. Please, I'll carry him." He couldn't watch them burn him, not again.

"And have you falling all over yourself as well? Don't waste my time. Elrig, just hurry up and get the brat up already. You lot stay with him in case of company. If you have to just kill him and go. I'd prefer to make _some_ money off this venture, so do try not to if you can. Otherwise I'll have to find someone _else_ to sell." His voice was light, but he made it clear exactly who that would be. "We'll take blondie and go ahead to the rendezvous."

The man called Elrig was heating up the branding iron in the dying fire as Arthur was led –or rather dragged– away. His arms were jerked forward, and he nearly toppled over onto his face, unprepared for the movement as he had been watching Merlin, praying he would move on his own before the slavers could touch him again with that unholy rod. The ones who weren't laughing around the fire or mounting their horses were gathered around his body, poking and prodding him viciously. Arthur wanted to dig his heels in and refuse to leave.

_Gareth said he wanted Merlin alive to sell him. If he can't sell Merlin, he'll sell them. So they won't kill him. Not if they don't have to. So long as you don't do anything stupid, they won't kill him. So you have to move. Move, Pendragon._

He had to keep that thought going over and over to make one foot continue going in front of the other. The action wasn't quick enough, however, because they weren't quite out of earshot when the familiar screams ripped through the trees.

"Ah." Gareth smiled. "He's awake."


	2. Chapter 2

**_(A/N: Previously Chapters 3 and 4)_**

* * *

Chapter Two

Merlin was awake, but that didn't actually mean anything besides the fact he was now conscious in terms of him being able to move on his own. He was trembling all over. It had taken three more burns to his arm to drag him from the charm-induced daze, then two additional ones had been applied to his leg "for the awful lot of trouble you've managed to cause us in such a short time, you little brat."

There probably would have been more, but dimly Merlin thought he heard someone complaining about them needing to catch up to the others. Pressure released around him and his arms dropped to his sides as the ropes holding his arms out were cut.

"Get up, whelp. We're moving."

Well, that wasn't happening. Even if Merlin had _wanted _to go with these people, he wasn't sure he actually had control over his limbs anymore. The man with the brand lowered the rod closer to his trousers. The metal wasn't cherry anymore, but it was certainly still glowing, and Merlin could feel the heat through his clothes. "I said, _get up._"

It took several tries for Merlin to get his legs to cooperate enough to move underneath him, and several more to drag himself into a standing position. He wasn't quick enough for his tormentor, though, who smacked him in the side with the rod, not holding it there for more than a second, but long enough for it to burn through the fabric, sending him back down to the ground in agony.

"Come on, Elrig. You're just wasting time. He won't be able to do anything if you keep hitting him with that, and then what'll we do?"

"I wouldn't have to hit him if he did as he was told the first time," Elrig snapped back, but he lowered the rod again, grabbing Merlin by the arm –the unburned arm, he was grateful– and yanking to him feet again. "You'll learn to obey, brat, or suffer the consequences."

_I know how to obey_, his pain dazed mind argued. _I just chose not to do it most of the time._ Luckily he still had enough sense about him not to actually say that out loud. At least, he hoped he wasn't saying that out loud. Much as he had no intention of rolling over for these men, he also would prefer never to have that thing touch his skin again.

Elrig dragged him over the horses, the few others who were present following and mounting their own. Merlin took the opportunity while the ropes around his wrists were being lashed down to spare a glance around.

Arthur was gone.

Panic swelled in his chest. Where had they taken him? Was he even still alive? There were less men here now than before. Had they split up, Merlin to be sold in place and Arthur in another? Would he ever see his king again?

Merlin knew there was no way he would find any answers by allowing himself to continue to be tormented by these slavers. Taking a deep breath to gain control of himself –his head was pounding viciously, and every moment pulled at the burns on his limbs– he dug deep and whispered the words that would snap the ties that held him.

What he could only describe as a _shock_ –like the feeling he sometimes got when grabbing a metal pitcher, only a hundred times worse– coursed up his arm. Merlin gave a yelp and fell to the ground again, his shoulders ripping at their sockets as he was caught up short by the ropes. The pain faded quickly, leaving behind a strange tingling numbness. He stared at the source. The mark upon his left arm, the first one they had given him, burned as gold as his eyes normally did when he was using magic.

Elrig had let out a snarl when Merlin collapsed. Now he, too, locked his eyes upon the glowing mark. His expression changed. There was something almost… _happy_ about it. "Ah, so you're one of _those._"

Merlin didn't know what he meant by that, and he didn't really want to take time to ask. Again he reached out with his magic. This time he didn't bother to try to sever his bonds. He was just going to take out the slavers by blasting them away and then worry about freeing himself. The jolt this time was even stronger, causing the edges of his vision to grey.

"Alright, whelp, that's enough of that. It's not going to work. Best you figure that out now."

Merlin's heart beat wildly. His magic was gone. How could his magic be gone? But no, it wasn't _gone_, precisely. He could still feel it there, just as he always had. He just couldn't _use_ it. How could they do that to him? What had they done?

The glowing faded the burn, revealing the scorched outline. Merlin didn't recognize the pattern of symbols, all woven together in a circle, but he had a terrible feeling he knew what they were meant to do. Somehow, they were serving as a block on his magic.

But these men hadn't known he magic. They couldn't have. Merlin had barely had a chance to use it during the fight that had led to his and Arthur's capture –hence the capture– and the brief moment he had used it, the one person who had seen it had died. And Elrig had seemed surprised, though not unpleasantly so. But if they hadn't known, why had they done it to him? Did they do it to all their slaves? Did Arthur have one too? Merlin doubted it, if that was its sole purpose. The chances of the King of Camelot not only being a sorcerer but actually making use of his gift were insane.

Arms wrapped around him, and Merlin could feel himself being lifted off the ground. He thought for a moment about struggling, but the idea of being dropped wasn't exactly one he wanted to entertain at the moment. He soon found himself being draped across the front of a saddle. _Well, this is new._ Only moments ago he'd thought he was to be expected to walk to heel, but now he was being given a ride?

"Now, what to do with this. No time to cool it off again…." Merlin tensed as he felt something hard and hot being placed against his leg, and yet another rope was tied around his upper thigh. "There. You can carry it!" Heat built up quickly through his trousers, but luckily it seemed to have cooled down to the point where he thought at least only leave blisters, though if they left it there long there were no guarentees.

"Time to go see what trouble your master's gotten himself into while you've been sleeping, bratling. Let's move out!"

The new position wasn't the most comfortable in the world, particularly as he wasn't actually tied down to anything. His wrists were still bound together, and from the pressure he suspected his ankles were now, too, likely done while he was preoccupied with not wanting to be burned. _As if I could run away while lying here._ Speed was apparently a factor, so Merlin found himself bounced along, his stomach and ribs driving into the edge of the saddle enough times he thought he might have to vomit. The only thing he had to be grateful for was the angle of his leg meant the heated end of the rod was held mostly away from his skin.

"Do you hear that?"

Merlin did not, but although no name was given, he was reasonably certain he wasn't the one being asked. Then the sounds reached his ears. The chinking of metal. Breaking branches. Snuffling horses. Leon shouting.

Were the circumstances any different, Merlin might have actually found himself very grateful that his rescue was so near to hand. But they weren't different. He was being tossed about like a sack of potatoes –even more roughly now that the slavers had increased their speed, fleeing the knights of Camelot–, he was in no condition to help his friends catch their quarry as he quite close to vomiting, letting his head explode, or simply losing consciousness again, he didn't have control of his magic and had no idea how to get it back, and Arthur was still missing.

That last bit was the most concerning of all.

As one particular jolt caused Merlin to slip a little more on the horse's neck, a thought came to him. Perhaps he wasn't totally useless here. With one giant lurch, Merlin allowed himself to tumble backwards over the horse's neck, landing on his side and causing streaks of pain to course through him from his burns. The rod tied to his leg slipped out, and he managed to get it into his hands. Now he had a weapon, at least. Unable to stand, even if he hadn't been tied up, Merlin steeled himself for the increased pain and began to roll, not even worrying about the hooves that pounded dangerously about him.

"Wait! Someone grab the brat! Don't let him get away!"

Merlin knew to slow a horse and come back for him meant losing time they could be spending getting away. They wanted him. They _needed _him and badly. Two men raced towards him on their horses. One jumped down to wrench him over his empty saddle, ignoring the feeble swings of the branding rod his arms were too tired to even lift, but before the slaver could mount again, a crossbow sprouted between his shoulders, and he collapsed with a howl.

Merlin wriggled, trying to throw himself off again, but the other man grabbed the reins of his steed, looped them around his upper arm, and yanked the horse forward, fleeing the arrows that flew after them. He stopped struggling and focused on trying to stay on. If he fell now, he wasn't sure what the damage would be, but he had no desire to die in this way.

Merlin could hear his name being yelled through the trees. He'd been spotted. They would definitely continue the chase now, knowing he was with them, suspecting Arthur would be too.

But that would be a waste of their time, wouldn't it? Arthur wasn't here. And the time they spent chasing Merlin was time they weren't spending looking for their king. If these slavers had any intelligence at all, now that they had been seen, they wouldn't retreat back to wherever the rest of their group was, just in case they were followed, at least not for a long while. Neither Merlin nor the knights would get anywhere near them.

Merlin had to get them to give him up.

He was grateful that after all this time, they still hadn't bothered to gag him. He drew in as much air as his tortured ribs would let him, puffs being driven out with each continued bounce. "Arthur's not here!" he yelled as loudly as he could. "You have to find him!"

It wasn't exactly "Leave me," but he hoped his message would get across. It did.

"Not without you, we don't!" That was Gwaine. Of course it was.

Merlin wished for a moment he still had his magic so he could do something besides try to talk them out of chasing after him. Which he realized immediately was ridiculous, since if he had his magic, he wouldn't even be in this mess anymore. He racked his brain, trying to think of something, anything he could do. The knights weren't going to catch them; he was reasonably sure. And even if they did, that didn't solve the problem of finding Arthur. Merlin needed these men to lead him to him.

His arm smacked hard against the horse's side, sending more waves of agony through him, but also reminding him. The branding rod. He still clutched it in his hands. The men had been so concerned with fleeing that they seemed to barely notice he had it. Gwaine was there at the front of the pack pursuing them. Merlin's limbs weren't strong enough right now to really do anything, and his wrists were tied together, and he was in an awkward position…

But he was desperate. And enough desperation can make even the impossible possible.

With every last bit he had left in him, Merlin reared in the saddle and launched the branding rod at the knights. It hurtled through the air, not landing close enough that even at the speed they were galloping it would have hit them, but close enough to startle their horses, sending them into a momentary panic.

It was enough. The slavers' mounts charged on into the forest, and the knights slowed, realizing their quarry was lost. But despite the distance, Merlin was reasonable sure he could make out the confusion and pain on at least one knight's face as he watched as his friend was stolen away through the trees.

* * *

Arthur could tell Gareth was becoming increasing irritated as they traveled, and by the time they should have stopped to make camp for the night, he seemed to have hit his boiling point. When one of the men dared to question when they might be stopping, he reached down, grabbed his dagger from his belt, and flung it at the man's heart without a word.

No one asked anything after that.

Arthur couldn't deny he was worried, too. The others hadn't met up with them yet. They hadn't been that far away when Merlin had started screaming. They should have caught up soon after. But no one had appeared, Merlin in tow or otherwise. Part of Arthur hoped that was a good sign, that perhaps Merlin had been rescued. But another part feared something even worse had befallen his friend.

_What have our lives come to, that I'm contemplating a fate worse than being captured by slave traders?_

But there were worse. Arthur had lived through the worse. Then there was the possibility of worst, which Arthur did not want to consider at all.

_Merlin's still alive. He is. I'd know if he wasn't_.

Gareth drove them on until Arthur was certain if he had to take another step his leg would fall off the moment he lifted it. Dawn was just dreaming of being born, the sky lightening ever so slightly. As Gareth slowed his horse, shouting orders to his men to make a fire for breakfast, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. Breakfast wasn't sleep, perhaps, but it wasn't endless walking either, and it _was_ food, something he hadn't since the one the previous morning.

He was shoved down against a tree, his lead rope tied to a root that stuck out of the ground. He could have told them it wasn't necessary. He wasn't going to move again for a very long time. In fact, despite the concern –and hunger, there was a great deal of hunger– gnawing at him, he found himself asleep the moment his head hit the ground.

Arthur was brought roughly back to reality by a boot to his ribs. He bit back a groan, taking several attempts to roll off his side. It wasn't like he was out of shape, but he had been forced to march at a swift pace for hours yesterday, and every muscle screamed from the few hours of sudden non-movement. _So much for wanting me undamaged._

Judging by the sun, not much time had gone by. The slavers didn't look like they had rested, either, several heads drooping as they remounted their horses or stamped out the fire. Gareth looked to be in even more of a foul mood than before, yanking sharply on the rope to rip Arthur to his feet. At least, that's what he thought those appendages at the end of the pain-shafts protruding from his hips might be, he wasn't really sure anymore.

Arthur thought he understood why Gareth would be upset. Losing Merlin meant losing profit, no matter how little or much he thought he stood to make off him. Losing the others meant crew he had to either replace or figure out how to get along without during raids (as well as apparently a lack of available income when needed). Not to mention, he had to worry that if they'd been caught, they might give up information.

Much as Arthur was hoping to see Merlin appear and soon, he knew that Merlin's rescue was the best case scenario for both of them. Merlin would be safe, and slave traders who were captured could be questioned for Arthur's location. Yes, that was definitely what Arthur wanted.

If only he could have confirmation that that was the case.

As the group trudged onward, Arthur tried not to think about how much he ached. He prayed they weren't going much farther. They had to be out of Camelot by now, though he wasn't really sure which direction they were headed in. They could be headed north, towards Caerleon, or perhaps south, towards Rodor's and Odin's lands. Arthur wasn't sure if any of the leaders of those kingdoms allowed slavery. Nor was he honestly keen to find out.

Luckily, he hadn't been forced to walk for more than about a half an hour before he began to hear the sounds of town life. Gareth didn't lead them straight through the middle of the town. Instead it soon became clear he was skirting the edges, finding the entrance he wanted. The one he wanted, apparently, was the back of a ramshackle building. Dismounting and dragging Arthur along with him, he lifted a slat of wood off the ground, swinging it easily on its hinges. Gareth shoved the king in front of him, forcing him down the steep dark stairs.

No lights burned in the basement. As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs –which he could only be grateful he hadn't broken his neck descending– he froze, unsure what to do.

"Keep moving, blondie. Straight ahead. Door's open."

A torch flared off to his side, and he heard someone approaching from another set of steps. With the light Arthur could now see the steel cage he was expected to step into. He did so, Gareth slamming the door behind him and locking it.

The barer of the torch stepped up to him. She was an older woman, who bore a slight resemblance to Gareth. "You got 'em, eh? That mean we finally gonna get paid?"

"We lost the other one. Not sure where they got to with him. But this one's the ol' king of Camelot. I'm sure we'll get sommat for him."

"_You lost one?_" Arthur had to admit he was slightly taken aback by her tone. He couldn't imagine anyone but himself and a handful of people back in Camelot reacting so strongly to Merlin's lack of presence.

"We'll get him back. Now that we've got his highness here, I'm sending them out to look for the others. Don't worry, we'll get our money." Gareth turned from her to Arthur. "Make yourself comfortable. You've got a long wait for Torrence's return."

They left, taking the torch with them and plunging Arthur back into the dark. He sat on the dank floor, scooting until he reached the wall, leaning against it and stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh. Well, a long wait meant a long time until he had to move again, and he was perfectly okay with that.

His head lolled forward onto his chest, and as he heard a gurgle just before slipping back into a restless slumber, he couldn't help but grumpily remember that he still hadn't had anything to eat.

* * *

The squeal of metal on metal woke Arthur some time later. There were no windows in the basement, so he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Something large and heavy was thrown onto his legs. In the dim light of the single torch and his still half-awake state, he couldn't quite make out what it was, and he tensed. Then he heard the soft moan coming from the lump, and the dread in the pit of his stomach grew.

The torch had moved away from the cage to light smaller ones on the surrounding walls, illuminating the room far more than it had before. Gareth and a few men from his crew stood there. They appeared to be in the midst of an argument.

"-had to go the long way to avoid them. But that's not the worst of it."

"Oh, there's worse, is there? Worse than almost getting yerselves caught and losing half my payday?"

"We lost the brand! That little brat threw it at 'em!"

"_He did what?_" Gareth all but bellowed. He rounded on the cage, grasping the bars tightly between his hands and glaring down at Merlin with murderous eyes. "Is he awake?"

Not exactly what Arthur was expecting. "Wh-what?"

"Is the boy conscious?" He said it very carefully, pausing in between words as though it would make his meaning plainer.

"I… I don't know. He–" Arthur tried to turn him a bit to see his face, but Merlin chose that moment to let out a louder moan, answering the question.

"Good. I'll take that, then." The door opened once more and Merlin was wrenched from his grasp by two of the men. "String him up over there."

"What are you doing?" Arthur ignored the pain in his stiff legs as he flung himself towards the entrance, but it was slammed in his face. Through the torchlight he watched helplessly as two larger shadows tied up a leaner one to a rafter. "What are you going to do to him?

"Teaching him obedience. Clearly it's a lesson you forgot while he was working for you. Don't worry, I'm sure you were busy with more important things. Not easy being king, is it?"

Even with the adjustments his pupils were making improving his eyesight, Arthur wanted to deny what he was seeing appear in Gareth's hand. And he did deny it, up until the point it crashed down on Merlin's back, ripping out scream that echoed much too loudly in the confines of the tiny basement.

Thrice more the whip came down. Arthur slumped to the floor as he knees gave out, but he couldn't look away. He owed Merlin that much. He had left him, and Merlin had had to come up with his own means of escape or defense or whatever his motivation had been. This whole situation was his fault, and Merlin was paying the price.

A door slammed open, and a shaft of light slipped down the stairs. The woman from earlier stomped down them, furious. "_What do ye think yer doin'?_ I've got guests up there! Ye think they're not going to start asking questions if they keep hearing screaming? Ever'one knows you got 'em, Gareth, doesn't mean they have to know you got 'em here, nor what ye do to 'em in the meantime!"

Arthur couldn't make out any faces, but he guessed from the way Gareth lowered the whip he was thoroughly chastised. He gave his men the order to cut Merlin down, letting him be thrown unceremoniously back into the cage.

"You'd best get that brat of yours to learn how to behave between now and Market Day. Else we'll take him to out to the woods and teach him there, where Sara won't be bothered."

They all left, thankfully leaving the wall-sconces lit. As soon as he was sure both the door and trapdoor were closed, Arthur scrambled over to Merlin, kneeling next to him and rolling him onto his side, unsure which part of him had the least damage.

"Merlin? Merlin, it's me. Come on, idiot, wake up."

A small part of him felt badly for throwing in the insult, but he had to add some shred of normality to the situation, or he was afraid he might go mad. Merlin groaned and tried to roll himself onto his back, but then he gave a sharp yip of pain and threw himself forward, stopped from landing on his stomach by Arthur's knees.

"Ar-Arthur? Where are we?"

His voice was no more than a croak. As soon as he finished he erupted in a hacking fit, his body spasming weakly as his lungs fought to expel themselves. Arthur was lost. He had no idea how to stop it or what to do about it. He wished the light were closer. Merlin was too concealed by shadows still for him to assess the damage that had been done in his absence. Much as he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know, he knew he needed to. He had to figure out how difficult a time Merlin would have if they had an opportunity to escape.

Once the coughing had subsided, Arthur eased Merlin off his knees, hoping his front wasn't as badly damaged as his lacerated back in case he fell forward again. "I'll be right back." He crept over to the end of the cage, reaching his still tied arms through the bars, trying to get ahold of the closest wall torch. It was just out of reach. Stretching as far as he could, he managed to get a few fingers underneath it, tipping it out of its holder and onto the floor. Sticking a foot out, he nudged it closer, grabbing it and pulling it inside the moment it came close enough.

Okay, now he was _sure_ he didn't want to know the extent of Merlin's injuries. At least, he had to take the slavers' word that was who was before him. Merlin's face was a pulverized mess, blood and bruises running together so that he couldn't catch a hint of the pale skin underneath. From the way he had curled up when Arthur let go of him, the king could guess he had at least broken rib, if not more. There were the burns, several more than had been there when Arthur had left him. And of course the whip slashes running across the entirety of his back, visible through the shreds of his shirt, which had been reduced to little more than rags.

Arthur found himself unable to breathe as he took in the damage. How could anyone do this to another human being? His stomach churned as he remembered what had been said the other day. They had actually _debated_ whether or not Arthur would protest such treatment of his servant. Or at least they had debated whether he would care about him being branded, if not the rest of it. He couldn't imagine even the worst master _not_ caring.

"Okay, Merlin, you're okay. I've looked you over. You're going to be fine." Arthur wasn't sure if he was saying it for his benefit or Merlin's.

He was rewarded a rough choking laugh. "So no chance of a day off?"

That Merlin could still joke heartened him slightly. "Nope, not a bit. I expect you back to work the morning after we get back, and not a moment later."

"Prat."

Merlin broke into more coughing, staving off further retorts. Now that they had light, Arthur could see the blood that sprayed from his mouth. He sincerely hoped that was coming from a scraped throat or perhaps a bitten tongue and not a punctured lung.

"Don't worry," Merlin croaked once the attack had subsided. "I don't think anything's broken, just bruised."

"What'd you do that for, anyway?" Arthur demanded, though his heart wasn't really in the rebuke. "Throwing away their branding iron? Didn't I tell you not to antagonize them?"

Merlin didn't answer, and for a moment Arthur wondered if he'd passed out again, but he thought he saw the flickering of eyelids that indicated he was not. Then finally he whispered, "Well, now they can't use it anymore, can they?"

There wasn't much Arthur could say to that.

The door opened once more, and the woman descended. She shoved a plate through the bars, along with a bowl and a skein. Then she tossed a bundle of rags at them. "Clean 'im up. Gareth wants 'im presentable for evaluation." With that she vanished again.

Arthur didn't like the sound of this evaluation, but he was glad for the food and the cleaning supplies. He broke off a piece of the stale bread for himself, forcing it down, before tearing off a smaller piece for Merlin. "Come on, time to eat."

From the look on his face, it was clear Merlin was not entirely pleased with that idea. However, he accepted the bread, taking a tiny bite, chewing it carefully before swallowing. He immediately began coughing again, and Arthur uncapped the skein, hoping it was filled with water. When the hacking lessened, he helped his friend take a few small sips to ease his raw throat. They continued this routine for what seemed like ages, until Merlin steadfastly refused to try to stomach any more. Arthur didn't press it, finishing off half of what was left and setting the rest aside, not sure when their next meal would be.

Then he picked up a rag and dipped in the bowl, setting to work cleaning Merlin's wounds. Arthur didn't know much about medicine, being a monarch, not a physician, but he knew plenty about infections and how they happened. Merlin hissed and flinched as Arthur scrubbed as gently as he could. Eventually he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed one of the rags from the pile, wadding it up and letting Merlin see it.

"Bite on this, okay? It'll help."

Merlin just nodded mutely and let the rag ball be placed in his mouth. It didn't stop his squirming, but it did lessen his squeaks of pain a bit. Arthur conserved best as he could, but he finished the pile before he could set any of them to the job of binding the wounds. He honestly didn't even know _how_ to bind the whip lacerations. He did the best he could, ripping off the bottom of his tunic and using the cleanest scraps he could get from Merlin's. It wasn't much in the end, but he thought he'd done a reasonable job of covering the worst of the damage.

Merlin had fallen asleep –or unconscious, he wasn't really sure– at some point during the ministrations, something Arthur could be glad for as he had to slightly lift him several times to try to wrap the improvised bandages around his back. Once it was all complete, he dragged the servant as carefully as he could over to the wall he had slept against before. Even though Merlin had said he didn't think his ribs were broken, Arthur didn't want to take any chances. Making sure he wasn't resting on his burned arm, Arthur propped him up on his side, steadying the boy by resting his head on his lap.

"If you ever tell anyone I let you do this, I'll deny it and throw you in the stocks for a month."

They were in for another long day tomorrow, or today, or whenever it was, Arthur was sure. He could only hope things would look brighter when that time came.


	3. Chapter 3

**(_Chapter Unchanged)_**

**A/N: The nice thing about bus rides is that it gives you plenty of time to write. The downside to bus rides is… everything else. I'm on my way to visit family for the next few weeks, so I'm afraid updates will be sporadic. I will still try to make sure I put something up for at least one my stories every few days, but I'm afraid no guarantees.**

**You guys aren't really attached to the whole writing in improper English for accents/indication of less education, are you? I have been trying a bit, but it's hard enough writing properly in another language, let alone improperly. Thank you to everyone who has said they like my writing style, though! It means a lot!**

**And yes, Merlin ****_is_**** a self-sacrificing idiot.**

* * *

Chapter Three

"Wakey, wakey. Aw, isn't this a sweet scene?"

Arthur roused himself much more quickly to the sound of the approaching slavers this time, having swiftly adjusted to the idea that bad things tended to happen here if he allowed himself to wake slowly. Merlin didn't move, except for the slight shivering that had started sometime during their rest. Glancing down at him, Arthur could see the beads of sweat on Merlin's forehead indicating a fever. That didn't bode well. He knew enough to know that meant infection had likely set in in one or more of Merlin's wounds.

"You'll be pleased to know Torrence has returned, blondie. Your people have agreed to buy you back."

So they did want to ransom him. A weight lifted off Arthur's chest. It thudded back down as Merlin began to stir beside him. "What about my servant? We will pay for him as well." Back when his father alive that might not have been the case, but Arthur was in charge now, and he would pay a dozen ransoms for his lazy, insubordinate manservant any day.

"Nice as that offer may be, we'll hold off acceptin' it if it's alright with you. First he's got to be evaluated. According to Elrig, we might actually make quite a bit more off your brat than we thought." Gareth opened the cage door, allowing two of his men to come in and drag out Merlin, who sagged lifelessly between them. "See, this ain't Camelot, your highness. 'Round here, magic pays."

Arthur could do nothing but stare as they carried his friend away. His mind whirled in confusion. What had magic to do with Merlin?

* * *

Honestly, if he could choose, Merlin would have rather not been moving at the moment. Luckily it seemed wherever they were taking him, it wasn't far. Merlin, though far less awake and aware than Arthur had apparently been, only felt himself being carried for a few minutes before he was unceremoniously dropped on the floor again.

There was much more light in this room than their few torches in the basement provided. Daylight streamed in a few windows, causing a far cheerier atmosphere than it should have been entitled. Merlin thought he could even hear raucous laughter coming from a room nearby. The head slave trader –Gareth, he thought Arthur had told him while cleaning his wounds before– stood before a hooded figure. The men who had carried him in were leaving, closing the door behind them.

"So, I brought you a sorcerer. Your brand worked well, according to my men. The whelp tried to escape, but it did as you promised. Once we are done with this business, I was wondering if we might talk about making an exchange for another one?"

Merlin snorted from his limp pile on the floor. _Bet you're not going to tell them __**why**__ you want another one, are you?_

Unfortunately his noise was heard, and suddenly he found his scalp trying to say a pained farewell to his head as Gareth took hold of his hair and wrenched him upwards. Stars exploded behind his eyes and his vision began to dim. "What was that, brat? Don't think you're in any position to be saying anything right about now."

Merlin didn't reply, trying to think of anything to get his mind off its current desire to pass out again. Nice as it would be to get away from the searing pain in his back and head, he really needed to work more on being conscious. He couldn't figure out how to get himself and Arthur –or at least Arthur– out of this mess if he was asleep all the time.

And if this was the person who gave them the rod that had blocked his magic, perhaps they would know a way to get rid of it.

"I'm sure arrangements can be made to get you another brand." The voice was soft, but authoritative, the voice of a male not roughened by age or hardship. "Of course, I will expect repayment."

"And I'll have plenty of money for you, just as soon as I finish selling off my stock. That's what I came here for. I need you to tell me how much the magic brat is worth."

Merlin never thought he would actually miss being patronized with the name "boy."

"Of course."

His scalp was released, and Merlin collapsed to the floor again. For a moment he wondered exactly how this was going to work. Then he stopped thinking altogether as fingers wrapped around the brand on his arm and blinding white heat coursed through him. Just as suddenly as the pain arrived, however, it was suddenly gone. All of it. Even the whip marks on his back felt like a cool balm had been smoothed over them. The rapidity of the change left Merlin breathless and fighting once again to stay awake.

"You found him alone?"

"Brat was abandoned," Gareth lied offhandedly. "His own people left him for the taking."

"_They did not_," Merlin managed to growl. He had no idea why the head slave trader was lying about that to this man, but he would not have Arthur and the knights maligned like this. Especially when Arthur himself was in the same situation, waiting anxiously for his return, a few metres below him. He was rewarded with a swift kick in the ribs, driving out any further protest along with all of his breath and sending him into more racking coughs.

His arm was immediately released. Merlin was able to calm his breathing just in time to hear the hooded man turn to Gareth and say, "I'll make you a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Gareth asked suspiciously.

"I will give you another branding rod, if you give me the boy."

Merlin's head spun, and for once it wasn't from pain. This man wanted to buy him. To exchange him for goods like he was wares at a market. But Merlin couldn't be sold. Not alone. He had to look after Arthur. Magic or no it was his destiny to protect him.

Gareth apparently wasn't sure if he was too keen on the idea either. "How do I know he's not worth more than the brand?"

"Because I have seen his magic, and I have seen him. He will earn you nothing on Market Day. No one will even believe he has any sorcery at all from the state of him, let alone enough to pay for."

"Then why exactly would you want him?"

The stranger hesitated for a moment, as if debating how best to respond. "Because I can make use of him. You are not been cheated, my friend. I have made purchases in the past, have I not?"

"Aye, you have. But you always waited until Market Day."

"Then so I shall for this one. Have him evaluated by another, by all means. But it will be a waste of your money. They will tell you the same as I. He may be a sorcerer, but he will earn you no coin."

"And if I get a better offer?" But it was clear Gareth was wavering.

"Then feel free to sell him for the highest bid and pay for the brand with the money you make from him and your other stock."

Merlin didn't know how long it was until this Market Day, but he was quite certain that the only "stock" the slavers had were him and Arthur. They were bound to make a fortune selling Arthur if they marketed him as the king of Camelot. But Gareth struck Merlin as the type to want to keep as much gold in his pocket as possible. Depending on how much this branding rod cost, he might not want to give up everything he made off Merlin and a chunk of the profit from Arthur.

Merlin had a feeling this strange man knew that and was taking advantage of it. He had a bad feeling about the stranger. For some reason he was making Merlin's gift out as paltry, nothing of note. Merlin had never had the skill to sense the magic of the people around him, but if this man did, surely he would have felt something in line with the whole "greatest sorcerer to ever live" thing. If that were so, than he was blatantly lying to the slavers in order to convince them to give him up.

_Besides, who wears a hood inside unless they're up to no good?_

No, Merlin didn't like this man at all.

Unfortunately, it seemed Gareth did. "How soon can you have the brand ready for me?"

"I can have it to you by tomorrow morning."

"Then you can have the brat now. As a sign of good faith."

Merlin's eyes widened, and his heart started racing. No. No, this wasn't happening. At least if he was able to stay with the slavers until Market Day, even if he and Arthur were separated he would know where to find him. They couldn't hand him over now.

Ignoring the protests on his lips, however, the two men shook hands, sealing their deal. His new owner curled his fingers around the brand again, whispering something too quietly for Merlin to make it out.

And then his vision went black, and he knew nothing.

* * *

When they didn't come back before Sara brought him more food, Arthur began pacing the cell, ignoring the plate. He had to ignore it, because if he didn't, then he would have to acknowledge that they had only been given half as much as before. He was completely drained, but he didn't dare rest. He couldn't fall asleep, not while Merlin was still gone.

Arthur had begun reciting under his breath every speech he could ever remember giving, knowing he had to keep his mind sharp. Merlin could not run, not in the condition he was in. That meant their best bet was for Arthur to convince them to sell him to Camelot. Guinevere was smart, and her advisors would know what to do in cases of ransom exchanges. They would bring extra gold, just in case the slavers raised the price to buy Arthur back. They could use that extra to pay for Merlin.

They had to know in Camelot that Merlin was with him, after all. They'd both gone missing. And of course Merlin would have never left his side. He was annoyingly loyal like that. Even when Arthur tried to get him out of danger, the idiot thought he had to be there, because Arthur was.

So no matter what the ransom note had said, even if it only was an agreement to exchange Arthur, he was sure the people of Camelot would be entirely ready to rescue Merlin too. It would be a given. That thought relaxed him a bit, but only a small portion, because he still had to accomplish his end. Now that strange talk of sorcery had entered the picture, Arthur had a feeling it was all about to get harder.

If only he knew how much harder.

Arthur ended up sleeping simply because he could no longer hold his eyes open. He'd tried, really tried, for Merlin, but in the end exhaustion swamped him. He woke to the door opening and was on his feet in an instant, however.

And the first thing he noticed was Gareth didn't have Merlin with him.

"Where is he?" Arthur demanded. "What have you done with him?"

"Who, the brat?" Gareth said it so nonchalantly Arthur wanted to dive through the bars and strangle him. "We took him to the evaluator. It was a waste, though. Didn't have enough magic in him to even earn a decent piece of silver."

"Of course he didn't," Arthur growled. "Merlin's no sorcerer."

Gareth laughed. "Well, of course he is. Just not a very good one, apparently." Then he took a closer look at Arthur's face, breaking out into a large smirk. "What, you didn't know? Well, isn't that rich? The king of mighty Camelot has a secret pet sorcerer for a servant. Think he didn't tell you because he knew you would kill him if you ever found out? Or did you actually believe he trusted you as much as you trusted him?"

It was a lie; Arthur knew it was a lie. They were just trying to get him to hate Merlin so he wouldn't fight them when it was time to return him to Camelot without his friend. "Merlin would never lie to me." _Really, we're going with that? How about one you actually have a chance of believing yourself; like, Merlin can't lie because he's absolutely terrible at it._

"Oh, he lied to you, alright. But don't worry, blondie, I took care of it for you."

Arthur's blood ran cold. Took care of it? Took care of it how? He wanted to ask, but he couldn't get his voice to cooperate.

"Wasn't up to Camelot standards, I'm sure. 'Fraid we don't got our own fancy stake to burn 'em at 'round here."

_No. No no no no no._

"But hey, dead is dead, ain't it?"


	4. Chapter 4

_**(Chapter Unchanged: These two were short, yes, but they just didn't work well combined.)**_

* * *

Chapter Four

Gwen always hated when her husband went on patrol. She knew she was being silly. He was the _king_, after all. He had to do everything he could to ensure the safety of his people. But that didn't stop her from worrying that every time he went out, this might be the time he didn't come back.

She took some comfort knowing Arthur wasn't alone. Merlin and the knights were with him. They would look after him, protecting him with their lives. Not that she wanted anything to happen to them either. It was just that Gwen worried much less about bad things happening to the others, experience having taught her the bad things tended to simply follow Arthur like a cloud of midges.

Knowing they weren't due back until late the next day, Gwen tried not to dwell on what might not be. However, when Leon and the knights galloped into the courtyard early that evening, her heart began to pound before she even reached them. She knew, even before she had a moment to stop and count, what she was going to find.

"What happened? Where is he?"

"We were attacked. The king and Merlin were kidnapped." Leon said it formally, being that they were out in the open, but his concern was clear in his eyes. Elyan jumped off his horse to come comfort his sister. "We went after them, but we couldn't catch them."

"We should have. We _would_ have," Gwaine snapped, dismounting his own horse and stomping up the stairs into the castle without another word.

"What happened?" Gwen asked again, her confusion doubled by the knight's strange behavior.

"Not here," Leon insisted. "Inside."

They waited until they were shut in the council chambers before they explained about the surprise ambush, being separated from Arthur and Merlin, tracking them down again. They had made it up to the point of actually finding Merlin again when the door burst open and Gwaine stormed in, followed closely by a worried Gaius.

"I thought he should know." Gwaine glared at them all, as if he expected a challenge. None came.

"As I was saying," Leon continued cautiously, sparing a glance at the physician, "we caught up the bandits in the woods and found they did have Merlin with them. They had tied him up, but he did try to get away from them."

"If you can call that trying."

"Gwaine–"

Gwaine continued, undeterred. "What he's not telling you is that Merlin didn't _want_ to be rescued. He's the reason we lost them. He told us to go away and save Arthur instead of him, and then when we didn't, he _threw_ this at us!" He held up what they had quickly determined was a branding rod. None of them wanted to think about the implications of that. Gaius took the rod, frowning at the design on the end. "Why would he do that, Gaius? We could have caught up to him if he hadn't startled the horses."

"The king wasn't with him?" Gaius asked absentmindedly. "Then my guess is he did it for exactly the reason he told you. He wanted you to go after Arthur instead."

"Of all the self-sacrificing–" Gwaine broke off, continuing to rant to himself under his breath.

"Did you? Did you find Arthur?" Gwen felt terrible for seeming so callous, but she had to know. She adored Merlin with every fiber of her being, but she knew he thought he'd done the right thing, thinking only of protecting his king and friend. It was how they all were forced to think. Merlin just took his duty more seriously than any she'd ever met.

The knights shook their heads glumly. "Search parties will be sent out first thing, we swear."

Gwen nodded, moving to retreat to her chambers. She had barely made it to the doors, however, when they were opening again.

"A message for the queen!"

Gwen ripped it anxiously from the boy's hands without so much as a thank you. She barely got beyond the first line before she gave a squeak and dropped the parchment like a hot coal. Leon stooped to pick it up.

"They want to ransom the king. If we bring them their gold, they'll give him back to us, unharmed. It names a meeting place… the place where we were attacked. They'll bring him there and make the exchange in four days if we agree."

Gwaine looked over Leon's shoulder while he read. "That's Arthur's signature. I think. Bit squigglier than normal."

"I'll have to talk to the council." Gwen wrung her hands nervously. "They'll agree to it, I'm sure. They have to."

"What about Merlin? What do they want for him?" Gaius asked it, but they all knew what the answer was going to be before Leon said it.

"They don't want anything for him. He's not mentioned in the ransom at all."

* * *

Gwen sat shivering on her horse despite the heat of the day. She'd insisted on coming, ignoring the protests of both the council and the knights. The council had, of course, immediately agreed to put together the ransom money. Not that she had waited to ask them, sending her reply back with the messenger boy within moments. The next few days had been spent in agonized waiting. The bandits had said Arthur would be unharmed but what was their definition of the word? Simply alive, perhaps unbroken? They had to have roughed him up a bit at least. Gwen knew her husband. There was no way he would let them take him and keep him without a fight.

The terms of the ransom had stipulated no more than four warriors could be present, none of whom were allowed to be armed. Not wanting to risk anything, Gwen had insisted others be hidden in the background, ready in case things went south. She had insisted Gaius be there too, both in case "unharmed" was simply a placating gesture to get them to show up and because she knew he was just as worried about Merlin as she was Arthur.

Merlin's lack of mention on the ransom note worried Gwen, but not as much as it could have. She had been a servant once. In fact, she'd even been kidnapped and held for ransom herself. At the time, her captors assumed she was a lady, and had sent their message with such thoughts in mind. She was well aware that they never would have ransomed her if they'd known she was only a handmaiden. Her life was worth nothing in the mind of Uther. Merlin wouldn't be any more worth mentioning. They wouldn't expect anyone here to care.

Which could mean he was dead, she was painfully aware. But she refused to believe it. Arthur would never allow it to happen. Just as Merlin would sacrifice himself to save Arthur, so would Arthur do anything to protect Merlin. That knowledge gave her hope, even if was only a shred.

They were late, of course. When the large group crested the top of the hill, Gwen stiffened, searching frantically amoung them for Arthur. She spotted him easily, the lone figure on his feet. A pang ran through her as she realized what that could mean. _Merlin's not with them_. There was mumbling to her right, and she knew the others had deduced the same.

Gwen dismounted shakily. After much arguing, they had agreed she would do the exchange, being the least threatening of the group. Carefully she walked forward, not moving too far in front of the safety of the group. There were archers trained on their position, but she knew better than to take chances.

"I have your ransom," she called, wincing as her voice cracked. "We are prepared to make the exchange."

One of the group rode forward, dragging Arthur and his bound hands along with him. As they came closer, Gwen took in the sight of her husband. Something was wrong. He did indeed look unharmed, other than a large bruise on his cheek, but he was slumped forward as he walked along, his face blank. He held none of the defiance she had expected to see.

"Toss it forward. If it's all there, you can have him. He will stand in the middle, and you will wait until we're gone before anyone moves. If you break these terms, I have an archer waiting to strike him down."

Gwen nodded urgently. "It is agreed." She threw the bag as far as she could. There were too many for even the guard she had concealed to take out without casualties. They would have to play this by the bandit's rules. "What of the king's servant? We would take him as well. We have brought extra coin to pay for his ransom."

The man laughed, coming forward to pick up the sack and pawing through it, not really counting, just checking to ensure it was real through and through. "The magic brat? I think I'll let his majesty explain that one to you."

_Magic? But Merlin doesn't have…_ Gwen didn't have time to dwell on the thought as Arthur was left in the spot where the money had been, the bandits retreating. It was all she could do to hold herself back from rushing forward until they disappeared back over the hill. Dimly she registered an order to follow them, but she was too busy running to Arthur.

"Are you alright? What happened to you? Arthur?" He didn't answer, simply collapsing forward onto her. Gwen held him tightly. Something was definitely wrong. "Arthur, where's Merlin?" He just buried his face into her neck and shook his head, squeezing her tighter. "Is he… Did they…?" She trailed off, unable to finish the dreadful question.

She didn't need to finish it. Arthur was already nodding anyway.

* * *

Arthur still refused to speak the entire ride back to Camelot, despite prompting from Guinevere and the knights. Gaius had checked him over for injuries, and finding none, pronounced him in shock but otherwise healthy. He retreated to his chambers the moment they arrived back at the castle. Everyone left him alone, for which he was grateful. He didn't have the energy to explain anything just yet.

And what did it matter? Rehashing the past days' events would only serve as another reminder. Arthur had failed. He was supposed to protect the citizens under his care. He couldn't even protect the person who mattered most. What kind of king did that make him?

He'd thought he would know if Merlin was dead. That the absence of his friend from the world would create such a hole that some part of him would actually go missing too. Like Merlin's pulse powered his own. But even now, knowing he was gone, Arthur felt nothing. How could such a cataclysmic change in the universe creating no change in him?

That was why he felt so empty. It was like he couldn't even begin to mourn because Merlin _didn't_ _feel_ _dead_.

But he was. And the sooner Arthur accepted it, the better off Camelot would be.

If only it were that easy.

* * *

**A/N: And cue end of interlude chapter! Sorry there wasn't any action really in this one. Decided to give you a bit of a breather. I hope you enjoyed depressed!Arthur. Poor things. I really am a mean person.**

**Before you ask, this is NOT slash. I stand by what I said before, there are no pairings (perhaps a bit of Arwen, but only because this is post-series 4, meaning they're married, and Arthur really needed a hug by this point). I ship Merlin with the moon because I just want my baby to be happy, but not in this story. They are just ****_really good friends._**


	5. Chapter 5

**_(A/N: Previously Chapters 7 and 8)_**

* * *

Chapter Five

When Merlin awoke, he was laying stomach down on a bed. Considering his overall circumstances, he had to admit, he found it slightly strange, if comfortable. Not as strange, however, as the fact that he was also free from pain. He could still feel the pull of the scabs on his back, as well as from the burns on his arms, but there was no unwelcome sting. Nor did his head or ribs throb like they had as they had for so long. Merlin had no doubt the injuries were still there. He could still see the bruises and blood, after all. The pain simply didn't plague him as it once had.

Slowly Merlin pushed himself up to a sitting position. He did it as carefully as he could, expecting his back to erupt and his arm to flare, but nothing happened. Fabric shifted around him. He'd been bandaged, much more expertly than Arthur had done. The only thing left bare was the slavers' brand.

That brand still gave him an eerie feeling. Particularly now that he knew it could block his magic. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened to him. Morgause had used chains against him, binding him so that each time he tried to free himself, they tightened about him. Then if he tried to use his magic to do anything to defend himself, it was so severely diminished as to do nothing. Other than the squeezing of the chains, however, that spell hadn't hurt him, not like the shock created by the design of the brand. Merlin wished he knew what it was. Maybe then he could figure out how to counteract it.

Trying to take his mind of it, Merlin took a look around. The room he was in now was simple, though nothing like he would expect for a slave. He was on a bed with a plush mattress, not as nice as Arthur's, of course, but much nicer than his own back in Gaius's chambers. There were no wall coverings, but there was a high window. Merlin let that be for the moment; pain free he may have been, but his strength supply was not something he wanted to test. Next to him was a small table with a goblet of water.

He sat there until the sound of the door opening drew his attention. At first it seemed as though it had done so on it's own. Then Merlin noticed movement near the ground. A little boy who looked to be about seven or eight peeked through a crack near the bottom. His green eyes were wide as they stared at him. Then the door opened a fraction further as a plate of bread and meat was poked through.

"The master told me to bring this to you." The child's trembling voice was barely more than a whisper, so that Merlin had to strain to make it out. "The master said it's my duty to make sure y-you have food."

Merlin cocked an eyebrow. He got the odd feeling the boy was for some reason more afraid _him_ than this master. But why would that be? Even if the man had warned the boy about his magic, it wasn't like Merlin could use it. Nor was he strong enough to overpower this small child at the moment, not that he was sure he could bring himself to attack a child in the first place. If anything, right now the boy was the an advantage over _him._

"The master says to tell you that y-you have to stay in here. He says to tell you not to try to leave."

Merlin rolled his eyes. Yeah, like he was going to listen to that.

"Do I get to meet this 'master'?"

"I-I don't know. The master didn't tell me. Probably. Everyone here knows the master."

"Did he give instructions for what I'm to do while I'm stuck in here?"

The boy shook his head. "That's all I know. Really."

Merlin sighed. A little more information about his future would have been helpful in planning an escape. Well, in the meantime, he may as well eat. Merlin swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The boy gave a squeak and retreated from his peephole, slamming the door shut. Merlin heard the distinctive click of a lock before the patter of running feet. He rolled his eyes again. He wasn't _that_ scary, was he? For crying out loud, he could barely _crawl_, after all. Reaching his breakfast by the door, Merlin thought he might actually have to take a break and nap before he even took a bite. He forced himself to lift a piece of meat to his lips, chew, and swallow. To his surprise, the food wasn't half bad. Apparently he wasn't being given the dregs of the upper crust's meals. Either that or this man ate better than even Arthur.

Once he was finished half the plate, Merlin did fall back asleep, propped up against the wall. While his dreams weren't the same feverish quality they'd been back in Gareth's cell, when he'd been in the throes of infections, they still held disturbing images of cloaked men and searing brands which chased him around as his back fell apart in bloody shreds around him. He awoke with a start, drenched in sweat, the boy peering down at him.

"Um, you okay?" His eyes were wide again, obviously surprised and terrified to find him centimeters from the door. He eyed Merlin like a rabid dog, hardly opening his barrier a slit.

"Fine," Merlin mumbled, pushing himself a bit more upright. The boy staggered back a bit, the door swinging slightly. Merlin bit back an annoyed scoff. This really was getting ridiculous. "What do you want?"

"I brought you more food?" He replied softly. "Also, the master says the physician will be to see you soon."

"Physician?" Could this situation get any stranger?

"Uh-huh," the boy nodded.

"Thank you," Merlin said as sincerely as he could, coaxing a smile onto his face. He had no ill will towards this boy, not really. Then for good measure, he added, "Tell your master thank you as well."

"He's your master, too."

_Not a chance. I've already got one of those, thanks. He might be a prat, but I think I'll keep him just the same._

The boy poked a bowl of soup through the tiny hole. This time Merlin was close enough to spot the brand on his arm, identical to his own, though the gap before he snaked it back out of sight and shut the door. Now he really felt bad. Who could do such a thing to a child?

Merlin only ate a few bites of the soup before he lost his appetite, then contemplated the problem of getting back to his bed. He supposed he really ought to, if for no other reason than to not give the child another heart attack when he next came in. Also, if Merlin was going to recover enough to get out of here, better to do it from the comfy bed than the hard floor. The half-crawl, half-drag it took to get over and pull his torso onto the bed again sapped him completely. He didn't fall asleep again though, because at that embarrassing moment the door was opening again.

Merlin was just barely able to see her from his awkward position on the bed. The girl who entered looked only a few years older than the boy who brought his meals. If Merlin had had the energy to, he might have raised an eyebrow of disbelief that she was the physician. Then he mentally hit himself. Of course she wasn't. Probably she was just here to collect the dishes.

"Well, you've got yourself in a state, haven't you?"

At least she wasn't terrified of him. "Maybe, I guess."

"Let's get you on the bed, shall we? Completely on, I mean."

Carefully she hooked her arms under his armpits and heaved his chest gently onto the mattress arranging his legs after. Before he could say a word, she began to rip off the bandages around his back. "Looking good so far. It was nasty when you got here a few days ago. Not that you're better or anything. The only reason you were able to leave your bed at all was because when you were bought, you had numbing charm on you. But that doesn't mean you should move. I was against it, but I was overruled."

Unlike when the slave boy had mentioned "the master," the physician used about as much respect in her tone as Merlin did when he was upset with Arthur. It seemed she also didn't care who knew she disagreed with her superiors. He noted the difference with interest.

"You still need to lie here for another few days yet. Why were you up and about anyway? Just because you have no pain, I know you can't feel well. Unless you usually slept like that back in Camelot?"

She knew he was from Camelot? Another interesting note. "I had to reach the food," he mumbled.

She let out a sigh. "I'll speak to Tyuz. He's supposed to leave it on the table, not across the room, the silly boy. I'm Oswin, by the way. If you need me, just as Tyus, and he'll fetch me. He's the one in charge of bringing your meals. You need only ask him for whatever you need, within reason."

"That's… accommodating of you." Wait, wasn't he supposed to be a slave?Yet he was getting decent food, medical care, and permission to ask for what he wanted, when he wanted? His slaves liked him, from little Tyus who feared an imprisoned slave more than a man who created and probably used branding rods to Oswin who felt comfortable enough in her position to speak freely about her feelings regarding him. Merlin twisted his head from his position on the bed to try and get a better look at her arm. He saw a symbol there, but not the one he had expected.

"You're a druid?"

"Yes," she replied simply.

"So why do you work here?" The druids were supposed to be pacifists. Slavery didn't seem to fit with their tenents.

"Because the people here have been good to me. Particularly when no one else was. I owe them. I work here as repayment.:

"What happened?"

"That's none of your business." It was clear the matter was closed. "Now sit up so I can re-bandage this."

He hadn't even felt whatever she'd been putting on his back. Nor did he feel as she wrapped the new cloth around his chest, winding it around. The scab pull was gone. Merlin wondered if she had magic and had increased the numbing charm without him noticing or if it was the medicine. Whatever it was, his back certainly felt heavier. He could barely lift himself. As he lowered his arms, she took the branded one, twisting it and inspecting all of his burns critically.

"You'll keep the scars from these, I'm afraid. I might be able to fix your back, but the burns on your arm and leg will stay. That was a special rod; the burns can't be healed, only changed. And I'd watch your step around here if I were you. He has others and is unafraid to use them if need be. He's an excellent master, but he doesn't tolerate disobedience, particularly from his rescues. But you needn't worry if you simply do as you're told."

He got the feeling from her tone this was another topic Oswin and the master disagreed on, but luckily Merlin had no intention of sticking around long enough for that to happen to him. He decided to push the thought of his current scars aside for the moment. One problem at a time.

"Does that mean I'm going to meet the master?" He'd asked Tyus and gotten nowhere, but she seemed more open.

"All in good time, I'm sure. He's glad you're here. You'll be with us for some time, I'm hoping. Besides, he'll need to talk to you to tell you what you're to do during the Doscubel."

"What's the Doscubel?"

Oswin shook her head, backing away a bit. "Best he tells you. I probably shouldn't have said anything."

"Tell me, please."

She collected her thing quickly. "Remember to stay in your bed and not move too much until your back heals, even if you think it doesn't hurt. I'll talk to Tyus about bringing your meals closer." She set a bottle on the nightstand. "This is a tonic to help you get your strength back. Drink it all. I'll return tomorrow to check on you."

Oswin retreated through the door without a backwards glance, locking it behind her.

Merlin eyed the bottle warily. Oswin seemed since for the most part, but there was no telling her motivations. He didn't recognize the tonic as one Gaius had ever prescribed. For all Merlin knew, it would knock him out, or weaken him further, or turn his insides to fire. Well, maybe not that. So far the goal seemed to be to keep him alive and comfortable. And now he at least sort of had a reason, even if he had no idea what that reason meant: the Doscubel.

He couldn't imagine what that was or what they wanted him to do. He did know it was unlikely he was going to do it. Just because they called him a slave didn't mean he had to act like one.

And with that he pushed the full bottle as far away as possible and went back to sleep.

* * *

"The master's upset with you."

Apparently Oswin had had her talk with Tyus. His meal was next to him now, not across the room. The boy, however, had waited until he was retreated across the room and pressed against the opposite wall before waking him. Merlin felt odd as he raised himself upright. Not in a bad way, either. Much better than he had before, in fact. Quickly he glanced at the table. The bottle was gone.

"What did you do to me?" Merlin demanded.

"You didn't take your medicine. The master said you had to so you could get better. He got you to take it while you were sleeping."

Merlin tensed, struggling not to lash out at the boy. It wasn't the child's fault, after all. But Merlin was angry. Maybe the tonic hadn't had any negative effects, and he should have taken it on his own. But he really disliked that he'd been force-fed a drug without his knowledge, not only because it meant his resistance had been futile, but because it also meant they'd been able to do it with him entirely unawares. If Tyus hadn't told him, he might never have been sure that was what had happened. Which meant they could do it or something similar –or worse– to him again. He really wished this "master" was the one who had woken him now. Merlin certainly had a few choice words to say to him.

"Oswin says she'll bring another tonic later when she comes to check your back." Tyus gravitated towards the door, but didn't leave, a question barred behind his lips. Merlin picked up the plate of food –scraps this time, though still good quality; apparently he was being punished for his insolence– and waited patiently, knowing it would take a while for the boy to gather enough courage to ask. He finished half the plate before he was interrupted. "Do you really have no magic anymore? The master took it away?"

Merlin almost choked on the mouthful of meat he'd just been swallowing. Really? That's what he'd been told? "Not exactly," he mumbled. At least, he hoped that wasn't the case. It didn't feel that way, anyway. He thought he could still feel his magic hidden there inside of him. After all, it had come readily to his call when he'd tried to use it before, it just had… _rebounded_, or some such thing against him. But at least that explained why Tyus had been so afraid of Merlin before. He probably thought the sorcerer was going to blast him away. Oswin must have told the boy he was harmless now. "I still have it, I think. I just can't use it."

"Oh, okay." Tyus shuffled his feet a bit. "I wondered how Emrys could lose his magic."

Merlin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "E-Emrys?"

The boy nodded. "Oswin and the master said that's you. I heard them talking when you first got here. Oswin told me stories about Emrys. She said that Emrys will save us. I didn't think you could do that without your magic. But… but I also thought you'd be mad at us for locking you up."

Merlin filled with dread as the boy spoke. So not only could this hooded man sense his magic, but he knew who Merlin was? He supposed he had Oswin to thank for that. As a druid, of course she would know the prophecies involving Emrys and the Once and Future King. But what exactly did these people want him to do about it? He was already doing everything he could to protect Arthur. Honestly, right now they were preventing him from fulfilling his destiny, not helping.

"Look, Tyus, I'm not mad at you, I promise. But I need to know: did Oswin and the master say anything else about me? Anything about what I'm supposed to do while I'm here? I don't just stay locked up here forever, right?"

"I-I don't really know…" but it was clear he did from the way he refused to look Merlin in the eyes.

"Please, Tyus. I promise I won't get you in trouble. And I don't have any magic to hurt you with, remember?" Merlin held up his arm for good measure to show off the brand.

Tyus glanced down at his own brand nervously. For the first time the boy showed fear indirectly related to Merlin's presence. Shivering he wondered just what power that mark gave the bearers. "A-all they said was something about a king and you. I don't know what. And that the master needs your help. In Camelot."

"What kind of help?"

"I really shouldn't–"

"You really should." Merlin hated to press the frightened boy, but he had to know.

"I think they were saying they wanted you to –"

The door opened. "You know, I meant for you to drink that tonic on your own." Oswin paused, looking back and forth between Merlin and Tyus curiously. "Am I interrupting something?"

Tyus shook his head frantically and bolted into the hallway.

Merlin picked up his plate again and continued eating, his face stony. He wasn't in the mood to listen to her chiding. Tyus may have said the "master got him to take it," but he had a feeling she had helped. Oswin stalked over and slapped another bottle of tonic down on the table. Instead of removing his bandages, this time she merely placed a hand on his back and began incanting. For a moment Merlin felt the total of his pain as she lifted the numbing charm to work on healing his wounds. Slowly the ache ebbed away as his skin knit itself together.

"You're still recovering, so don't be moving around, but you can take the bandages off in the morning. What were you asking Tyus?"

"Nothing. We were just chatting."

"This morning he would barely open the door and look at you. He wouldn't 'just chat' with you. You said something."

"Actually, you did."

Oswin arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? What did I say?"

Merlin hesitated. Perhaps he was the one who had said too much this time. Yes, Oswin was a druid, and to the druids Emrys was supposedly a highly respected legendary figure, one Oswin had told the boy was going to "save them." But she didn't seem to be aligned with the druids now. It was possible she didn't care anymore. "You told him not to be afraid of my magic because I couldn't use it. He believed you, I guess. All I asked was what my duties were."

She narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing him. "Tyus doesn't know. Don't ask him again. Right now your only duty is to recover. Starting with your tonic." Oswin indicated the bottle. "This time I think I'll watch, just to be sure."

Merlin picked up the potion and downed it with a grimace. He was surprised to find it didn't taste nearly as bad as the ones he normally had to drink of Gaius's. Apparently foulness was not actually a requirement for medicine. He still wasn't pleased he was being made to take it, despite the fact that it _had_ helped him regain his strength, but there was no way he was allowing them to force it into him in his sleep again.

Oswin nodded in satisfaction and walked towards the door. "I'll be back tomorrow. Tyus will be back later tonight to check on you to see if you need anything." Then she paused and turned back to him, hand on the knob. "Whatever it is you're planning –and yes, I'm sure there's something–, leave Tyus out of it. He doesn't deserve to be punished for your foolishness."

"What do you care?"

She sighed. "He's my little brother, and he's all I have. I care, okay?"

Merlin looked at her closer. He supposed he could see the resemblance. They had the same green eyes and mousy brown hair. Before he'd thought her to be only a few years older than Tyus, but now that he really examined her he saw she appeared to be perhaps in her late teens, still young for her position, but certainly old enough to care for a child. "You work for the man who enslaved your brother?"

"He didn't do it!" she snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. "And he would undo it if he could! Our camp was raided, and Tyus was taken by the slavers. I… I wasn't there; I couldn't stop it. I went to look for him, but by the time I found him again, he was in the pens at the market, and there was nothing I could do! The only thing I could think of was to make sure he was bought by someone who would take care of him. I heard about this place from someone in the village. He takes them in, all the child slaves. He gives them a home, food, protection. And he gave me one, too! You were lucky to be bought into this house! You'll find no better master to work for!"

Oswin slammed the door as she stormed out. Merlin leaned back against the stone wall as he sat in his bed. This place was enough to make his head spin. But though everything he learned only brought up more questions, one fact remained steadfast: he had to get out of here. Despite what Oswin thought, he already had a master to work for. At least, he hoped he still did.

Merlin had no idea where Arthur was now. He didn't even know how long he'd been stuck here in this room or how long he'd been missing from Camelot period. What with all the times he'd been unconscious, it was hard to keep track of things like that. He could only hope that it was long enough that the previously unsuccessful attempt to recapture him had since been successful at rescuing the king. As long as Arthur was safe, that was all that mattered.

In fact, his own attempt now to escape would not be to ensure his own safety, but the prat's. Merlin wondered when that had truly started, when he'd forgotten how to stop saving himself. Because after all, even if Arthur was safe now, Merlin had to get back to him so that the next time he inevitably got into trouble, there he would be to save him. It was an odd sort of life he'd somehow begun to live, a life powering someone else's.

Merlin could feel the potion coursing through his veins. At least it did make him feel stronger, however much he disliked it on principle. He waited a few moments before experimentally getting to his feet and stretching. His muscles felt sore from lack of use, but at least he didn't feel like he was going to immediately fall over anymore. Merlin took a shuffling lap around the room, slowly at first, then picking up his pace. The potion seemed to be working the way Oswin claimed. He didn't feel 100%, but he could move. And that was all he needed right now.

Merlin was more than his magic. Despite what everyone thought, he did have a brain, and he knew how to use it. Perhaps he didn't always have a plan, but he always got it together in the end. For now, he had half a plan, formulated as he paced the room. The other half he was sure would come as needed, like it usually did.

He hoisted himself up to look out his window. Despite the dim light, he could tell he wasn't on the ground floor, and though the walls were surrounded by forests, none of the trees were close enough for him to climb down. Well, onto his secondary plan, then. Oswin had said Tyus would be by to check on him. And Merlin would be ready and waiting when he was.

He crouched patiently by the door. He tensed as the locked clicked. As soon as the knob turned, Merlin wrenched the door open, toppling the boy off-balance into the room. Merlin grabbed the key that fell clattering to the floor and slipped into the hallway, closing the door and locking it behind him. He brushed aside the heavy guilt. Merlin felt terrible about locking the boy in the room, but he couldn't risk him alerting anyone about what he had done. It was bad enough he could shout and scream, but there was no way Merlin could bring himself to knock the child unconscious, particularly since he couldn't use his magic to do so harmlessly.

Silently Merlin crept down the corridors. He had no idea where he was going and could only hope that whatever staircase he found first led to an exit. Echoing voices drove him into the shadows. He couldn't see them, but he recognized them anyway. It was Oswin and the hooded man. Merlin hugged the wall, praying that they couldn't hear him breathe.

"–word from Camelot. They say the king is a broken man."

"Arthur Pendragon cannot _be_ broken," the man dismissed. "Or at least he certainly hasn't been. Not yet. Not over this. Have you found the lady Morgana yet?"

"I have found rumours, all untrue, all likely started by her herself to disguise her trail. It will take time. Now that we have Emrys, we can put forth our own rumours. She will come to us. I am sure."

"I thought… oh, never mind."

They continued to speak, but they were walking away now, and anyway their conversation had moved on to less interesting topics than what Merlin had just heard. Morgana. They wanted to find Morgana. Well, they were right. The moment she found out he was here, either as Emrys or as Merlin, she would arrive on the front doorstep within hours, and she wouldn't be baring flowers. He had to get out of here now.

Merlin scurried faster along the corridors. He tried not to think about what he'd overheard about Arthur. At least he knew the king was somehow safely back in Camelot, so all he had to worry about was getting himself back there, not finding the clotpole and rescuing him too. And he had to admit, the tiniest part of him was pleased to be missed. But it was miniscule. Hearing that Arthur was broken… Merlin wasn't sure if he believed it either, but he'd known Arthur for a long time. The king would be blaming himself for this, he was sure, because that was what Arthur did. When he couldn't find a bad guy to beat up, he beat up himself instead.

Whenever he heard movement, Merlin hid again in the shadows. It was true that nearly all those who passed him were children, all of whom looked healthy and content, not like the few ragged slaves he'd had the misfortune of seeing in the past. A few looked to be young adults, and only one or two appeared older than thirty. He wondered briefly if any of the other older ones were more family members serving in gratitude for the saving of their children or siblings.

Although, if the leader of the household meant to keep him locked up as bait for Morgana, Merlin didn't really care how nice he was to the local slave children.

At the foot of a staircase, Merlin spotted a window that looked to face the forest and opened it gently. Quickly he eased himself out, lowering himself carefully to the ground. By the time his feet landed, he began to feel the exhaustion creeping up on him. He wasn't fully healed, after all. Merlin knew he didn't have time to dwell, though. Someone was bound to have found Tyus by now. He had to get as far away as he could before his body gave out. He began to run, tearing through the trees blindly. He had no idea where he was in relation to Camelot. He could only hope he could find a village that might be able to point him in the right direction. The important thing right now was distance, even if it was incorrect distance.

Suddenly Merlin felt his air cut off. He tore at his throat and dropped to the ground. The brand on his arm began to glow and burn again as if the rod had been pressed to it afresh. Merlin's vision greyed at the edges. Before he lost consciousness, he felt himself being lifted from the ground, a tall shadow in front of him.

* * *

Merlin came to back in his room again, face down on his bed. Although he'd been breathing normally for some time now, he took several gulping breaths, enjoying the feel of oxygen in his lungs and brain. He rolled quickly over onto his back to allow his chest to expand fully.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Merlin bolted upright at the voice. His vision went white with the sudden movement, and he nearly pitched off the bed as his head swam. He had to grip the mattress to keep himself in place, closing his eyes and holding himself as still as possible until his head balanced out. Regaining his composure, he took a split-second to realize this voice wasn't Tyus or Oswin in his room now. It was his new "master," the hooded man. But turning his head, Merlin found he wore no hood now to block his face.

And Merlin knew exactly who he was.

"Hello, Emrys," said Mordred.


	6. Chapter 6

**_(All chapters__ from this point on are uncombined and simply renumbered)_**

**A/N: I know, I said this would be up yesterday! I seem to be apologizing a lot these days! For some reason the site wouldn't let me upload new documents. But it's working now, at least for this one!**

**I can't tell you how happy I am to see how surprised many of you were by the reveal of Mordred. It made my day. If you weren't surprised, thank you for at least not telling me and letting me keep my illusions of world dominati- I mean, that I'm a good writer.**

**Also, whether or not Mordred turns out to be good or evil, redeemable or irredeemable, just know that he is my preciousmuffinangelcake and I won't hear a word against him. No, seriously. J'adore Mordred.**

* * *

Chapter Six

"Arthur?" Guinevere peered cautiously around the door. "Arthur, the knights are waiting for you on the field."

"Sir Leon can lead them." He didn't look up from his paperwork. It didn't matter that he'd been staring at the same crop report for the last three days. Those words were anchoring him to reality right now.

"Arthur, it's been a week. You need to talk to someone."

He didn't reply. Deep down, he knew she was right. The problem was, the person he would normally talk _to_ wasn't available anymore. He couldn't tell Guinevere. She was already grieving enough herself. Arthur couldn't burden her with his failings and guilt. He had to be strong for her, for the the kingdom. Not that he was doing very well at that, even he had to admit. He hadn't emerged from their chambers except for one time to address the council since his return. Other than that, he had not spoken more than a few brief words to anyone, including his wife. It wasn't fair, but he didn't know what else to do.

But Guinevere had never been that accepting of his moods, even when she did understand them. "Arthur, you can't keep doing this. You haven't slept. You haven't eaten. You won't tell anyone what happened. Merlin was our friend, too. At least tell me what happened to him."

"I can't." He winced as his voice cracked. He lowered it to a near whisper. "And you know what happened. You heard what I told the council."

"That they separated you and didn't bring him back before they returned you here. But, Arthur, that doesn't mean he's… _dead_. You know that. They were slave traders. Merlin could have been sold. If he was sold we can find him; we can get him back."

"He wasn't."

"How do you _know_?"

"They told me."

"And you're just going to take their word for it?"

Arthur understood her frustration. But it wasn't like he'd laid over and accepted what Gareth had told him. He had wanted proof, too.

_"You're lying," he snapped, hiding behind every ounce of his arrogance, hardly trusting his composure without it. "Merlin's not dead, and he's not a sorcerer. I demand you return him here this instant."_

_Gareth laughed again, but it was more hollow than before, and it was clear he was growing tired of Arthur's refusal to accept his story. "Still don't believe me, blondie? Does this help?" He tossed a rag into the cell. Even under all the blood and tears Arthur would know it anywhere: Merlin's neckerchief. Arthur gripped it in his fingers tightly until his knuckles turned white under the grime._

_"This proves nothing. You could take this off a live man as easily as dead. And it has nothing to do with sorcery at all."_

_"Perhaps you need what my men did then? It took their own eyes to figure out that brat had magic. Thought to use it to escape them, you see. But as well as having some very useful properties for controlling non-magical folks like yourself, the brand your brat wore serves the purpose of cutting off any sorcery a slave might try to throw off. If he tried, the results are… __**interesting**__, to say the least. But there, let's see if you're the same with that visual proof thing, eh?"_

_He called for several of his men to restrain Arthur and drag him out of the cage. Gareth led them up the stairs into a small room and over to a dirty window, giving him his first glimpse of true sunlight in days, stinging his eyes for a moment_

_What Arthur saw in the sunlight, however, was exactly what he was trying to deny. A body hung limp over the front of a horse, the skin of his face pale white, eyes open and unseeing. Gareth was talking to him again, something about a gravedigger, and hands were holding him back, and he might have been screaming, but he remembered none of it, nothing but the sight of those eyes, blank yet somehow filled with a terrible appearance akin to resignment._

"I- I need to see Gaius," Arthur said suddenly, standing up sharply from his desk and nearly upsetting his chair.

Guinevere looked a bit startled, but nodded, concern etched plainly on her face. "Yes, yes, I think that might be best. I'll go talk to him about a sleeping draught."

She slipped out, closing the door softly behind her. Arthur hoped she was actually going to bring Gaius to him. He didn't want a sleeping draught. He couldn't sleep. He'd tried that once. His nightmares had deterred any further attempts. No, Arthur wanted to do exactly what Guinevere had wanted him to do in the first place.

Arthur was ready to talk.

He began to pace the room as he waited. He'd spent the last few days in a daze, but now he had something to do. It was small, maybe, but it was important. He didn't know what he'd do when it was all over, but he'd deal with it –or not– when the time came.

Thankfully when Gaius did indeed enter he was alone. Arthur wasn't sure he could go through with this if he had to deal with witnesses. "You sent for me, sire? I have a draught prepared for you. It should help you to rest." Gaius was the one who looked like he needed rest. Part of Arthur felt badly for what he was doing. Merlin was his ward, after all, and like a son to him. The loss had to be hitting the physician just as hard. But this had to be done, and now.

"I have to ask you something." Gaius inclined his head and waited, but Arthur hesitated still. He wanted –no, he _needed_ to know, and Gaius could tell him. But there was still a part of him that wanted to remain in the dark, to mourn in peace. "You- you inspected the branding rod used by the slavers, correct? What did you think of it?"

"It is certainly an unusual design, sire. More intricate than one would usually expect for a normal slave brand."

"Does it have any… properties? Magical properties?"

"It would appear to be of druidic origin. I have never seen it's like before, but I would surmise from the pattern of symbols it is meant to restrain the slave upon which it is used at the behest of the one who holds the key to the spell. It is an ancient magic, but one I would assume to be very effective."

"Would that include a restraint on sorcerers themselves?"

Gaius blinked. He clearly hadn't been expecting that. "Well, yes, that symbol is included in the design."

"So it would have stopped Merlin from using sorcery?" Arthur asked bluntly.

"…If he possessed it, yes."

"Did he?"

Arthur looked Gaius straight in the eye, and he didn't like what he saw. Gaius was clearly making a decision. The physician was peering into Arthur's soul, judging him with his beady gaze. Arthur knew the answer long before he heard it. "Yes. Yes, he did."

"He lied to me. For years, he lied to me."

_"Merlin would never lie to me." "Oh, he lied to you, alright."_

Arthur hadn't believed his own words when he'd spat them at Gareth. He'd known Merlin would lie to him, did lie to him all the time. He'd just never believed his best friend would ever lie about something like this.

"He wanted to tell you. Do you know how many times I had to talk him out of it? Your father would have had him killed, as you well know. Even now with Uther gone, sorcery is still banned; he was still in danger. I made him promise to be careful."

_"Think he didn't tell you because he knew you would kill him if you ever found out?"_

_Merlin wanted to tell you; Gaius told him not to. …But Merlin didn't have to listen…_ Arthur had to ball his fists to stop himself from gripping his temples as a pounding headache started to rage. This was too much. He'd thought he couldn't deal with the uncertainty before, but now…

"That doesn't explain why he did it. Why he used magic, knowing it's against the law."

"Merlin did it to protect you, Arthur. He has been using his gift ever since you first met to keep you safe, and only for that. He has never used his magic to harm you or anyone loyal to you. He wouldn't. Your trust in him was never misplaced. He is your friend, Arthur."

_"Or did you actually believe he trusted you as much as you trusted him?"_

Merlin had never trusted him. There it was, the plain and simple truth. It was there in the look of his hollow eyes. He hadn't seemed betrayed in death, let down that Arthur hadn't come through to rescue him in the end. No, it was as if he'd always known this was what it would come to. That Arthur would never save him. Because he knew that what he done meant he wasn't worth saving.

"He _was_."

There were so many meanings to that statement now, and Arthur himself didn't know anymore which one he was using.

* * *

"Um, Gwen, can we talk to you?"

Gwen looked up to see her brother and three of the other knights standing sheepishly in the doorway of the tower. She blushed. If anything she should be the sheepish one, hiding away up her. But she couldn't go down there and face people again, and especially not him. It seemed she couldn't avoid everyone however. She let out a sigh and gave them a small smile. "Of course. What do you need?"

"It's… it's about Arthur. We wanted to make sure he was okay."

She gave a small choking laugh. Oh, if only she knew the answer to that! Everything had happened so fast in the past days. It was amazing to think it hadn't even been two weeks. Finding out about Arthur and Merlin's kidnapping. The ransom. Merlin's murder. Arthur's comatose grieving. And now…

Gwen had thought sending Gaius to see her husband would help. She had hoped that even if the old man couldn't convince him to take a draught to help him sleep, he might at least get Arthur to open up a bit; after all, he had been the closest thing to a father that Merlin –and even Arthur sometimes– had had! Things had indeed been different after that. Some might even say for the better. Arthur stopped barricading himself in his room. He had gone straight out and joined the knights on the training field, where Gwen had just informed Leon he was to lead the practice. Then he had asked her to find George and have him prepare himself to attend to him. He had met with three farmers and a merchant and had actually retired immediately to bed without a single refusal when she hesitantly suggested it, thought she still wasn't sure he actually fell asleep.

Yes, some might have looked on it as an improvement, but Gwen knew him better than that. The guilt and self-loathing was still there, but a new emotion had joined it: anger. Something had happened during his talk with Gaius to make Arthur so furious that it snapped him out of his depression enough to need to do more work than reading papers to take his mind off it.

Gwen had tried to find out what it was, but Gaius had become the one to lock himself in his chambers, hardly even allowing the messenger boy who came by slip his letter under the door before telling him to please go, and Arthur had snapped her that he was fine and wasn't this what she had wanted, for him to get on with his life?

"No, he's not okay." Tears slipped unbidden down her cheeks. She didn't know what to do. She was hurting so much herself, she wasn't sure she had to strength to heal both her own heart and whatever ailed her love.

Seeing her distress, Elyan came over and wrapped his arms around his sister, drawing her into a hug. The others drew closer, too, Leon placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, Percival and Gwaine lending their support simply by their proximity.

"He needs Merlin back," she whispered.

"We all do," Gwaine sighed.

But as they stood together mourning on the parapet, they all knew that was impossible.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Because this is the only fic I can access for some strange reason, have another chapter! I don't know why it won't let my upload to my other story. It's rather aggravating.**

**Does anyone else think I should give poor Merlin or Arthur a happy moment sooner or later? My poor little dears. I don't think I've ever tormented any of my characters so badly before (and apparently I should never watch Iron Jawed Angels while writing whump; it gives me terrible ideas).  
**

**Now back to Mordred, because I know you're all dying to find out what he wants with Merlin.**

* * *

Chapter Seven

"It's been a long time."

It had been. He thought back to the last time he had seen Mordred. Merlin had just accidentally led Arthur and a group of soldiers to raid Mordred's camp after Merlin had helped Morgana flee there to learn about her magic, then the boy watched while Arthur had killed Mordred's people. No, there had been another time, not long after that, when Merlin had _purposefully_ led Arthur and a group of soldiers to raid Mordred's camp after Morgana had helped them steal a crystal with the ability to show the future, then the boy watched while Arthur had killed Mordred's people.

That had been six years ago. They hadn't seen each other since, but needless to say, that wasn't the kind of bad blood that went away on its own.

_"I shall __**never forgive**__ this, Emrys, and I shall __**never forget**__..."_

No, definitely not on its own.

"What do you want, Mordred?" He tried to make it come out harsh and filled with anger, not any of the terror that shadowed his heart at the memories.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?" If Merlin didn't know any better, he would have thought Mordred actually sounded hurt. "Have I not been kind to you? Gave you food and healers? I bought you off those disgusting slave traders did I not? After you were so callously abandoned by those you called friend."

Merlin was confused until he remembered: Gareth had said Merlin was found alone. Mordred didn't know the whole story. "I wasn't abandoned," he snapped. "The king was captured, too. And the knights came back for us; they just couldn't manage to get us back in time." Merlin didn't know why it was so important to defend his friends, but he was sure it was. There were so many times he had wondered of his own volition whether he was anything more to them than just a servant; he wasn't about to let anyone else attempt to put those thoughts into his head. "They're probably looking for me even now."

"Actually, they believe you are dead now. They won't come for you."

Merlin felt his heart sink beneath the ground. Dead? No wonder Arthur struggling back in Camelot. Now he _really_ had to get back. But why would they thing that to begin with? Last time Arthur had seen him, Merlin had been sent to be sold, or priced, or some such thing, not killed. It had to be another lie by Gareth. It wouldn't be good for business if people were trying to rescue the slaves from their new owners all the time. Or perhaps it was one of those rumours cooked up as part of Mordred's plot, to keep everyone from taking Merlin back before he could be used.

"What do you want?" Merlin repeated, the coldness coming much more easily this time. They weren't now and had never been close to friends, and no matter what fearsome acts he had seen the boy do, he was even now still just a boy, barely out of his teens, if that.

Apparently Mordred had had enough of pretences, too. "Your help."

Merlin let out a bark of laughter. "Help? You want me to _help you?_ Why on earth would I want to do that?"

"Because you are Emrys. The one who will restore magic to the land. And that is my aim. Once the lady Morgana joins us, we will be unstoppable in that aim."

Mordred. The one who was destined to kill Arthur. _No, it's too soon; I'm not ready for this!_

"I won't help you. I won't do anything to hurt Arthur or Camelot."

"I would never harm Arthur either." "_Arthur Pendragon cannot __**be**__ broken. Or at least he certainly hasn't been. Not yet._" "He is the Once and Future King. But to reach that future he must be shown the truth. Sometimes we all need a little… _push._"

"He won't listen to you," Merlin scoffed.

"Ah, but he'll listen to you. He did so all the time. So many people listen to you, Emrys, even when you don't even notice."

"I'm not going to do it."

It wasn't like Merlin didn't _want_ to. He would love to just have it be that easy. But he knew best of all that it would never be. Arthur was stubborn. Stubborn and long-bred with a bear of that which he didn't understand. It wouldn't be as simple as walking in and asking him to try. Especially with Morgana there.

"You'll have no choice, I'm afraid. That brand you wear binds you to me. With it I can control your life. You cannot run. You cannot use your magic. You cannot act in any way I do not wish you to. You have already experienced the consequences of what should happen if you dare to make a move against me."

"You can't have that much power. Otherwise why bother to keep the door locked? Why not just order me to stay here? Or just have me kill Arthur and be done with it? You can put Morgana on the throne and she can bring back magic!" _Shut up, __**Mer**__lin! No need to be giving him ideas!_

Mordred cocked his head to the side, looking slightly curious at his outburst. "You're right, I suppose. I can't actually _force_ you to _do_ anything. I can just_ stop_ you from doing things. Like, I don't know, _breathing._" His eyes flashed gold and Merlin felt his air cut off again for a few brief seconds. "Or perhaps you enjoy your eyesight?" His air was back, but his world was black. "Pick your poison, Emrys. Hearing? Movement? Sense of touch? That lovely healing you've been doing?" Every time Mordred's eyes flashed the new torment he mentioned so airily would be inflicted upon him.

Then suddenly Mordred's expression turned cold. "Or how about what I stop is your heartbeat? I can, you know. But perhaps for now I will not. Because you see, I want you alive, Emrys. I _need_ you alive." The smile was back, but it was hollow now. "Have a nice night. Sleep well. Morgana should arrive soon."

* * *

"-and that was incredibly stupid of you. Running away like that. I warned you he would punish you. Didn't I warn you? I told you you were to stay in bed and finished healing, too, but did you listen to me? No. No one ever listens to Oswin. She couldn't possibly know what she's talking about."

From her long-suffering tone, Merlin got the feeling the young physician had been ranting for some time now, ignoring the fact that he was unconscious. She didn't even seem to be actually attending to him at the moment, just standing over him, seething away. As he regained his awareness, she remained unawares to his new state for some time, continuing to talk to him or herself or whoever it was she was aiming at. The instant she noticed his eyes were open, however, her pitch rose, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing.

"Don't get him involved. That was my one condition. _Don't get my brother involved._ So what do you do? _You lock him in the room!_ Do you even realize the trouble he could have been in for being the one to let you out? Do you? Or did you not care, so long as you got away from us? Is it really so bad here? Have we really been so terrible to you that you had to try to leave the second you had the chance?"

Merlin's mouth dropped as he listen to her. He could hardly even comprehend what she was saying. Like his escape attempt had been a direct insult to _her_ and her _hospitality_ rather than a bid for freedom.

"I saw you when you were first brought in. You were dying. If we hadn't healed you when we did, you wouldn't have lasted another few days with your infections. And I've heard stories from other slaves those men have sold. They don't like to feed their merchandise. If the fever hadn't killed you, the lack of food and water would have. Yet here you have both in plenty. I don't understand you. It's like you want to die."

"I don't want to betray my friends."

"Friends?" she scoffed. "Yes, I've heard about your _friends_. We receive reports daily from Camelot, you know. Today's tell us that the kingdom is back to business as usual. The king has hired a new manservant. The old physician has received a letter from an applicant to eager become his new apprentice, one he readily accepted. Your _friends_ have moved on."

_No…_ No, Merlin wouldn't believe that. This was another trick. It was another trick, and Merlin was getting _sick_ of head games. He didn't know about Arthur's new servant –that was probably just George, although the king had sworn six ways to Sunday he would never hire him ever again – but this new physician's assistant… from the triumphant look in her eyes, Merlin had a good guess that was meant to be Oswin. This had to be another phase of Mordred's plan, a way to infiltrate the castle from the inside, perhaps use medicines to poison everyone to clear the way for Mordred and Morgana's takeover… Merlin had to stop this.

"But if you're really that eager to leave, I hear her ladyship is on her way. I'm sure she'll be more than willing to take you back there. After all, Emrys, this is your destiny we're talking about."

"If you believe so much in my destiny, why are you doing this? Tyus says you told him you believed I could save you. How am I supposed to save you if you're making me destroy everything?"

"No one is making you do anything. Your choices are your own. As for your destiny, I do believe that still. But I think my and Mordred's interpretation of how you are meant to save us and return magic to the land is simply a bit different than the fantasy land one you've deluded yourself into believing can be possible. It's not just a simple law change that's going to give sorcerers back the freedom we used to have. It's revolution, and you are meant to lead it. Once and Future doesn't mean Once and Always."

With that she left, snapping the door shut behind her. Merlin sat up and leaned back heavily against the stone wall. _"Once and Future doesn't mean Once and Always."_ Did that mean… Mordred had made it out like all he wanted was for Merlin to talk to Arthur. A ridiculous plan, but one that Merlin could and would simply refuse to do, no matter what Mordred did to him. What Oswin implied, however, was much more sinister. And the way she said it, Mordred agreed. Arthur was not to live through this. And somehow, one way or another, Merlin was supposed to make that happen.

What was he going to do? He couldn't turn against Camelot, against Arthur. That wasn't even an option. He stared at the brand on his arm. The level of power Mordred held over him, however limited, terrified him. If Mordred had any control over him, it wouldn't matter how strong Merlin's will was. Somehow Merlin had to take the control back.

But how? He couldn't run; he'd just be brought back again. There was nothing in the room he could use as a weapon. He couldn't anger Mordred into killing him; he'd just admitted Merlin was too valuable. Maybe when Morgana got here he might be able to get her to do it, as she'd so often threatened. But it was more likely she'd torture him worse than he'd been when he was with the slave traders. No, he would have to think of something else. No matter what, he had to stop himself from being able to be used.

Merlin looked beside him at the table. His stomach turned as the thought confirmed in his mind. This was not going to be fun. It was going to be hard, too. He would have to hide it extra carefully from anyone who checked on him. Elsewise there might be a repeat of the tonic episode. They could suspect nothing.

_"If the fever hadn't killed you, the lack of food and water would have._"

_Thanks for the idea, Oswin._

He picked up the bowl of porridge and began to very carefully spread a quarter of it on the stones outside his window. He couldn't just dump it. Food outside on the ground would be suspicious. He could only pray no one was looking that closely to notice the slight discoloration around the stone. Another half was dumped in the chamber pot. He covered that up by doing his business on top of it, then pouring the goblet of water in. He was sure no one would look too closely at _that_. The chunk of bread he'd contemplated for a moment before he simply threw it as hard as he could into the woods. Merlin thought about keeping it under his pillow, but he knew the temptation would have gotten to him sooner or later. Lastly the bottle of tonic went in the chamber pot, too. He was never taking that stuff again.

If they found out- _when _they found out, they would be furious. Merlin could only hope that by that point it would be too late.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: In which we find out I'm really just a terrible, terrible person. No, seriously, you may want to brace yourselves for this one.**

**Although as I've promised before, there is actual important information in this chapter besides the whump. Which unfortunately means you can't skip it if you're squeamish. Unless you really want to, in which case PM me and I'll just tell you what the important bits are you should get from it.**

* * *

Chapter Eight

Merlin thought he knew what hunger felt like.

He was wrong.

Growing up, food hadn't exactly been scarce, but it was precious. A meal might be large one night and then scraps for the next few. In the winter a meal or two a day might be skipped if the storage began to run low. Occasionally an entire day might go by without one. Usually that was skipped only by Merlin, who would insist his mother eat what would have been his share. Even combined it wasn't nearly enough for a whole day, but he did what he could; he couldn't watch her suffer.

When the famine had come to Camelot he'd thought that was bad. But he'd always managed to get something in his stomach, even if it was rat stew or roasted bugs. When the knights had been "teasing" him by eating all the food over and over on a trip once, his stomach had nearly revolted the first time he actually was able to eat anything.

But this… what he felt now… this was hunger.

Merlin had lost track of how many times he'd disposed of the food brought to him. He wasn't sure he wanted to keep track. If he did he'd start thinking of hot, creamy soup, spicy roasted chickens, sweet cold water… no, those thoughts had to go. He was lucky no one stayed to talk to him these days or just the scent of food on them might send him drooling.

He hadn't seen Tyus again. A new slave tended to him now. Of course Merlin only knew that because he'd awoken once to find them sneaking in to grab his chamber pot one night. They never came in while he was awake, probably afraid the man would attack them next. Meals were no longer brought morning, noon, and night. Instead during those dark visits, Merlin's food for the entire day was left, and it was up to him to ration it as he saw fit. Of course they didn't know yet exactly how it was that he saw fit.

Oswin didn't return, either. Merlin had a feeling his guess was correct, and she was now on her way to Camelot to infiltrate the citadel as a spy. The thought churned his empty stomach. On the one hand it was a good thing he saw no more of her. The girl didn't seem to be a fool. She probably would be able to tell immediately what Merlin was doing if she could see him now. On the other hand that meant that even if Merlin eliminated himself from the equation, damage would still be done he could do nothing about.

But that couldn't be helped. He had to do what he could. And what he could was stop them from using him against Arthur.

He was grateful Morgana hadn't arrived yet. Why she hadn't come he wasn't sure, but every hour she wasn't there was another hour closer he was to being free from hers and Mordred's clutches. It had to be soon, when he would hit the point of no return. It had to be.

The numbing charm they had used on his wounds before had been removed when Oswin finished healing him. Now he could experience every ache of his head, every grind of his stomach in its full glory. His lips were cracked and bleeding from dehydration, and he had to force himself with every ounce of his will to go about the routine of getting rid of his meals each day not because he wanted to eat it, but because even the slightest movement caused such a wave of dizziness it threatened to send him to the ground. Merlin was certain he could actually _feel_ the fat and moisture being sucked from his body as it ate itself alive in its valiant attempt to continue fuelling him.

At least he knew they weren't secretly feeding him in the night. It wouldn't hurt this much if they were.

Merlin spent as much time as he could sleeping. At least when he was unconscious he couldn't feel the physical pain, even if he was haunted by nightmares of the past. Mordred taking down soldiers with an anguished scream. Mordred wordlessly hurling two spears with his magic to kill his attackers, a tiny smile on his lips. And those terrible words over and over. "_Never forgive… never forget."_

The door slammed against the wall. Merlin sat up dizzily, gripping anything that was near to stay upright and conscious. He hadn't even heard the lock click.

"Well, Merlin, I certainly must admit I didn't expect to see you here. What a _pleasant_ surprise."

Morgana stormed through the now vacant arch of doorway, the door having actually been blasted off its hinges, followed closely by Mordred. The fury in her gaze was greater than he'd ever seen it before.

"You see, I was under the impression that I was going to find a great sorcerer here. But who do I find? A pathetic servant. No, wait. A pathetic _slave_." She smirked. "Not so high and mighty now, are we? Where's your precious Arthur, hmm? Don't tell me he's going to miss all the fun."

Merlin wasn't sure he could actually get words to come out of his mouth anymore. Movement took energy, and all of his was being involuntarily used to keep his heart beating. Luckily he didn't have to answer, as Mordred did it for him.

"He was found by slave traders. They tell me that when they attacked the others escaped, leaving him behind to fend for himself. _He_ says otherwise, but the point is the same. Arthur is in Camelot, and he is here."

Morgana came right to Merlin's bedside, taking his face in her hands and pouting elegantly. "Aw, did your little friends leave you all alone, my poor little Merlin? Hmm, I wonder what that's like, to be betrayed by the people you thought you could trust the most." She tossed his head away with a sneer. "I'm not even surprised. They must have found out what a wonderful little _liar_ you are, _Emrys._"

Merlin swallowed thickly, not that he had any saliva left to coat his throat. Oh, he had considered that. He didn't want to, but the thought was there. The slavers knew about his magic. There was no reason not to think they might have told Arthur. Whether or not he believed them or not… there was no way of knowing. But Merlin prayed that the worst hadn't happened. If he was going to die, he wanted to do so with Arthur still caring. Gaius could tell him after. Anger would help him not to grieve as much. But not before he died. Even if Merlin wasn't going to see his friends again before it happened, he wanted to at least keep the belief that they would miss him.

"But there, there, Merlin, don't be sad. Mordred here tells me he's got a lovely plan for getting you back to them. And then perhaps Arthur will get the chance to stab you in the front as easily as you stabbed him in the back."

She glided merrily out of the room as though walking on air. Mordred held himself back. "We leave for Camelot tomorrow. Lady Morgana does not wish to wait."

"I still won't help you," Merlin forced the words out through his parched mouth. Mordred's eyes widened at the words, but it seemed it was not the content that startled him. It was the way his voice had emerged, "Isillwonhelye."

"What have you done?"

Mordred strode over and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. But the movement was too much for Merlin, and he could feel his world spinning out of control, vision blurring. "Emrys? _Emrys!_"

* * *

The next time Merlin opened his eyes he was alone with Morgana. Not exactly his favourite situation he'd found himself in recently. "That was your brilliant plan, hmm? Starve yourself to death?" She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Merlin, you used to be so much more creative than this. Did you seriously think it was going to work?"

"Hoped," he croaked. His throat felt raw. Much rawer than before. Like something had been forced down it… No, not again. "Still hoping."

"You see, _Mer_lin, I shall tell you exactly why that would never have worked. Because you seem to be under the impression that I want you alive. I don't."

Yeah, like that was a surprise.

"Mordred, on the other hand, refuses to let you die. So you have him to thank for this. Because his plan, as I'm sure you know by now, hinges on you being more than your current incoherent self when we take the citadel. Mine, however… I simply require your body." Merlin cringed. "The only thing keeping you alive right now, _slave_, is that mark on your arm. Mordred has informed me all about its properties. Yes, it may have some _limitations_. Of course, he isn't as inventive as I am. It's not his fault. He's still just a boy, after all."

Morgana thrust out her hand, and Merlin found himself pinned against the wall. "I don't need a brand to control my slaves, Merlin. You'd do well to remember that. I may employ yours from time to time, but know this: if you try to kill yourself and deny me the pleasure of doing it again, I will be sure that Arthur's death is much more painful that the one I will give you. And you can be sure that you will be alive to see it."

As though she had given an unheard summons, Tyus stumbled into the room, kneeling before her and holding out a bowl of porridge. Merlin could see his trembling hands and realized the boy was even more terrified of Morgana than he'd been of Merlin. He wondered if being forced to do her bidding now was a punishment for letting him escape before. If it was, he was sorry he'd ever tried.

Morgana took the bowl from his hand and settled herself on the bed next to where Merlin was still pinned to the wall. "Open," she commanded, smiling in a way that might have once been meant to be sweet.

Merlin squeezed his lips shut. His knew this was a losing battle, but it was one he was determined to fight anyway. As long as she didn't use his brand against him, he would hold out. Morgana pressed the spoon against his mouth, digging the metal into his lips. By the time it scraped its way inside and collided with his teeth, there was nothing on it, but his mouth was bleeding from several small cuts. She extracted the spoon, dipped it in the porridge again, and calmly began the process again.

Each time hurt worse than the last. Merlin was fairly certain there was some kind of salt in that porridge, being ground into each tiny scrape. His jaw was beginning to hurt from holding it closed so tightly, and he was still dreadfully weak from the days of starving himself before. Morgana took her time, endlessly bringing the spoon in and out, somehow never losing patience despite the fact that it never delivered its payload.

A thought occurred to Merlin and he let his lips slacken, just a bit. The tiniest bit of porridge found its way in. Morgana broke out in a triumphant smirk. "There now, that wasn't so terrible, was it?"

Merlin didn't reply other than to spit the mouthful back into her face.

She gasped in outrage, jumping up from the bed. Perhaps he _was_ being a bit petty, but he was supposed to be a slave, after all. Was there such a thing as a petty slave?

"Mordred asked me to do this his way first. You can tell him you refused his way." She barked a commanded in the old language, and Merlin felt his jaw spring open without his consent. The spoon was shoved to the back of his throat, and Merlin choked as it was practically dumped down his oesophagus. Only the shock of the rough treatment made him able to swallow through it, but he coughed and coughed, his stomach revolting from the sudden presence of something more than stomach acid and nearly vomiting it straight back up.

"Now, now," she cooed as he aspirated. "I just told you. There will be no dying, Merlin. I heard you were displeased when they feed you in your sleep before. Eat now, and you can be awake for the whole thing." More porridge was dumped down his throat and the hacking and heaving continued. Trying to gain a bit of control back, Merlin waited for the next spoonful. If they wanted him to have food, well, he would have it. He just couldn't guarantee he would force it down his windpipe instead.

But Morgana seemed to sense the determination that seized him and thought ahead. "We can't allow you to choke, now can we?" His mark burned, and he felt his air cut off once more as another spoonful was shoved in. Only once he swallowed convulsively did she allow him to breathe again. She repeated that process until his stomach could take no more, and he began vomit into his own lap.

Just as quickly as it began, however, the vomiting stopped. The heaving of his stomach didn't not, and he could feel stomach acid burning his oesophagus. The pain was almost enough to send him unconscious again. It felt like ages before his body relented and calmed back down. Only then did the pain in his arm cease as Morgana released the spell.

"Feeling better?" She tilted his head back and trickled water into his mouth. Merlin felt so exhausted he didn't even try to choke on it, allowing the coldness to sooth his burning insides, fighting not to throw it back up again. "Next time I suggest you do as I ask the first time, boy.

"Although I promise you, that request will be far less pleasant."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: It's short, I know, I'm sorry. Stuff and things going on in life, some personal problems I have to deal with. As I mentioned before (either here or on my other story, I can't remember), I want to finish this by the end of the month, before I start uni again, so I'm going to try to push through to update a bit more often, no matter what.**

**But in the meantime, have a good angsty chapter with some good important stuff. Okay, every chapter has important things, otherwise they would be pointless. But big things happen here, I swear.**

* * *

Chapter Nine

There was a part of Arthur that wanted to scream at Gaius when he saw the young girl trailing after him as he did his rounds. It was too soon. This was like giving up, like abandonment.

But there was another part that was glad. Because if replacement was this easy for the old physician, that must mean it was okay, that it should be easy and alright for Arthur, too, to forget and move on. To stop caring.

And if Arthur found himself checking to make sure the new assistant was in the room alone whenever he was forced to make a trip there for medical attention, well, he was only making sure she got the experience she needed. It had absolutely nothing to do with him attempting to avoid her mentor. And if he tended to ask George to fetch her to him rather than seek her out himself, well, he was a busy man who didn't have time to be traipsing all over the castle. It had nothing to do with him not wanting to catch a glimpse of the small room at the back of those quarters…

If anything, Guinevere and the rest were more worried about him than ever, he knew. But they just had to get over it. He was moving on, just as they'd been begging him to for a week. Why did they have to make a big deal over this whole "talking about it" thing? He _had_ talked about it, with Gaius. He had talked and processed and dealt with it and made his decisions and now it was over, so why did they insist on dragging it out by_ looking_ at him like that all the time‽

So he tried to ignore the tension in the air, even if it was palpable whenever he and one of the knights were in the same room or out on the training field trading blows. Of course, he hadn't thought it was so obvious until the new physician assistant herself brought it up. Arthur had sent for her after Gwaine gave him a particularly vicious cut on the forearm with his sword. The knight swore it was an accident, but the look in his eyes said differently. Arthur didn't know what _his_ problem was. After all, he had told no one about his recent revelation from Gaius. **_Someone_**_ should at least be able to mourn in peace._

"Sire, is there something bothering you? Forgive my boldness, but you seem stressed. I can give you a potion to help you with that, if you want."

"I'm fine," he snapped. The girl ducked her head at his sharp reply. "I apologize. I mean, I don't need anything for stress, thank you."

"Perhaps for something else then, sire? I have heard her majesty and your knights talking, and they have expressed concern for you. I only wish to help. I… I heard about your former manservant. I understand you must be troubled over it."

Oh, so now they were talking about him behind his back, were they? "Thank you for your concern, Oswin, but really, there's nothing wrong with me, nothing at all. As for Merlin," the word nearly choked him to say, "he was a good servant. But now he is gone, and I have accepted that. You are dismissed."

Oswin curtsied, then gathered her things quickly and left. This king really was a piece of work, wasn't he? It was a wonder Emrys had been able to work for him for so long if he was that quick to bite the hand that feeds. Camelot and Albion would be well rid of _him_. She smiled in anticipation at the thought as she skipped down the corridors. _Soon. They'll be here soon._

Arthur stormed out of his chambers to track down someone, anyone, he could yell at. He was in a yelling mood now. Perhaps the physician assistant didn't deserve his wrath, but there had to be someone around who did. How dare his friends speak about him behind his back like that? And discussing that _sorcerer_ like the king should be broken up about him being gone? It was ludicrous.

_Ah, perfect_.

His gaggle of knights rounded the corner, Gwaine amoung them. This was just what he needed, a victim and an audience. He opened his mouth to begin his tirade when someone small barrelled into his side, nearly knocking him over.

"What's the meaning of this?"

The messenger stared at the ground fearfully, obviously embarrassed about crashing into the king. "Your majesty, a report has just come in. The sorceress Lady Morgana was spotted in the lands of Gedref. King Rodor sent word. He said she hasn't done anything yet that he knows of, but he thought we might like to know."

Gedref. That was where they had finally determined that Arthur had been held captive. _What if she's going after_… no, that was impossible. There was nothing and no one there now that she would want. Nothing there that anyone would want. So why exactly had she gone there, after nearly three years of staying in hiding?

"What are we going to do, sire? Do you want to send a patrol out to Gedref to investigate?" Leon looked at him expectantly while the other knights shifted nervously at the news. Arthur wondered how many of them were making the same connection he had. _There is no connection. I'm here, and Merlin's… he's not there._

"No. That's Rodor and Mithian's land now. Just increase the patrols along the border. They said she's not doing anything, so there's no reason to suspect she's planning anything against us right now. She had to land somewhere, didn't she?"

He stomped back to his chambers, trying to not feel rattled. It was clear the others were not entirely pleased with his assessment, probably wanting to charge off and slay the witch then and there. And Arthur was irritated enough to do it, but he was not like Morgana. He was not going to let his feelings, whatever they may be, goad him into decisions. He made choices logically. Choices about strategy and about… about people.

* * *

Water dripped down Merlin's throat, causing him to wake sputtering and coughing. The slightly fuzzy-looking person sitting beside him jerked back. "Sorry," Mordred mumbled.

Merlin scrambled backwards on the bed as his vision solidified and identified the other person on the bed, though there wasn't really much of a place for him to go. The quick movement jarred his head, and he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths until it stopped spinning. "Wh-what are you doing? What do you want now?"

Mordred raised a cloth innocently. "I'm merely cleaning you up a bit. I thought you might want to look a bit more presentable for our trip to Camelot today." He said it calmly, as though they were simply making a small excursion to buy a loaf of bread. "I brought you some food, too."

The memory of the last time he'd been "fed" made Merlin's blood run cold and the bile rise in his throat. He held firm, though. He had come this far, he couldn't give up now just because it was a bit uncomfortable. "I don't want it."

"You have to eat. What Morgana gave you will hold you for a little while longer, but you'll die at this rate."

"Good."

"You… you can't just let yourself _die_. You're _Emrys_. The prophecies speak of what you will do. You haven't exactly done that yet."

"What do you care?" Merlin spat, though he was slightly uncomfortable about the look Mordred was giving him. "You want to kill Arthur anyways. Not much chance of fulfilling anything if the other half of the prophecy is dead."

Mordred set down his cloth and sat back a bit. "You don't know that, Merlin. There are many who believe that Arthur's role in restoring magic to the land will be fulfilled by getting him out of the way." It was the first time he'd ever called him Merlin instead of Emrys. The name actually sounded a bit strange coming from Mordred's mouth. "Just as there are those that believe your duty has never been to protect him, but to protect others from him until that day came. If that's so, I would go as far as to say you've already failed your destiny, Emrys."

It didn't matter that Merlin didn't believe that was his true destiny. Mordred's point was clear. Merlin could remember every failure. He couldn't ever forget them. Every person he couldn't save from the wrath of the crown against magic. The list was so long. There were the ones who had died. There were the ones who were hunted. There were the ones whose hearts were broken.

Mordred was on that list. So was Morgana.

But he'd saved people too. He'd saved Gilli from exposing himself and being caught during the tournament –_you also were perfectly fine with allowing him to be killed if that's what it came to_– , he'd spared Kilgharrah, even though his father had told him exactly how to kill him –_A father that would still be alive if you hadn't let Kilgharrah go and attack Camelot, killing dozens of innocent people, in the first place_–, he'd… he'd… But Merlin couldn't think of any other good deeds he'd done for those with magic. Perhaps it was because he hadn't met many worth saving.

Or perhaps it was because he hadn't given them a chance to deserve to be saved.

"I understand, Merlin. You did what you thought was right. But surely you can see now what the right thing is. It doesn't mean Arthur has to die. You don't have to kill him. But he has to go. Or else you and I and everyone like us will never be able to be free. Don't you want to be free, Merlin?"

The way he said it, Merlin couldn't deny it was tempting. Just remove Arthur from the throne, from a position of power, that's all Mordred wanted. Merlin examined Mordred a bit closer. There was something different about him; something had changed since the young druid had first come to see him, so hard and commanding. There was a hint of that little boy from so long ago. But what had brought about such a softening?

"How do I know Arthur will be allowed to live? How do I know if I do what you want me to Morgana won't just kill him anyway?"

_Did he just wince?_ Yes, yes, that was a definite wince. "I can't guarantee it," he admitted softly. "But I give you my word; I will do my best to honour our agreement. If you convince Arthur to step aside peacefully, I will not kill him."

"That's reassuring, Mordred, thank you," Merlin spat. "So good to know that even though Arthur's inevitably going to die, you won't be the one to do it."

"I-I've been trying to convince Morgana to spare him as well. Arthur saved my life once. I do not wish him to die. I owe him a debt."

_You owe me one as well. More than one by this point. But I have a feeling they will never be repaid._

Merlin didn't want to talk about the inevitable anymore. "How did Morgana control the brand? Not even the slavers could do that."

"There's a key to every slave's mark. If you know the key, you can control it, but only then. Some things it does on its own, like blocking your magic. Other things must be done by the will of the person with the power."

_So if I can figure out this "key," I can control it myself?_ Maybe, maybe he could do it, and then he could stop them from using him any further. But how would he manage that? Mordred wasn't likely to tell him, and Morgana would rather use the power for herself to kill him.

Speak of the she-devil…

"Well, _Emrys_, are you ready to see your beloved Arthur again?" Morgana appeared in the doorway that was still sans door since she had blasted it off the hinges. "I'll admit, I'm so looking forward to it, myself. Which do you think he'll react with first when he finds out his dearest friend is a sorcerer: fear or disgust? I'm hoping it's fear. I would hate for him to try to kill you before I got the chance." She frowned slightly as she caught sight of Mordred beside him, damp cloth still in his hand. The frown was quickly replaced by a smile that oddly held only the slightest trace of a smirk. "Mordred, if you would be so kind as to restrain him?"

Mordred sighed quietly, so quietly Merlin was sure he was the only one to hear it. Then he turned back towards Merlin. **"I'm sorry about this," **came the voice in his head.

Suddenly Merlin's world went dark. Mordred had taken his eyesight again. But it was more than that. All sound had been cut off as well, except for a faint ringing. He was deaf as well.

**"I don't care if Arthur lives or dies by your hand in the end. All I want is my Morgana back."**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm so sorry! I meant to put this up last night, but then I got distracted reading fanfiction instead of posting it. However, y'all should go read "Another's Favor" by ebhg. It's currently 140k+, so you have to set aside a good chunk of time, but it's ****_worth it._**** To make it up to you, I'll answer some reviews (because I know I'm awful about that; sorry, not I didn't answer all of them because they would take ****_forever, _****but I did try!).**

**Blue Turtle of AWESOMENESS: First of all, you have an awesome name. Second of all, thank you! *Laughs evilly in turn***

**Valaina Wynn: I love you too. I hope our relationship will continue nicely, and you won't get mad at me for some of these upcoming chapters.**

**Mergana Pendragon: I promise, no relatives were harmed in the writing of this fic! I have yet to brand or whip or starve or choke or force-feed any of my cousins or my brothers. However, I cannot promise no sensory deprivation happened. Also, your reviews never fail to make me smile.**

**TheSaku: I know six languages, but unfortunately none of them is Spanish. If Google translate tells me your review correctly however, gracias!**

**MissDreamgirl32: You're welcome. I hope to cause you even more pain in the future.**

**Sahba and MamzelleHermy: I know, my poor little muffin. Sadly the worst has yet to come for Mordred.**

* * *

Chapter Ten

Mordred gripped Emrys tightly by the arm, mindful of Morgana's fierce watch. Emrys struggled at first, stubbornly trying to remain where he was, but Mordred simply used the brand to cut off his body's ability to resist and hauled him to his feet. The movement was too much for his weakened state and he promptly passed out again, crumpling heavily. Mordred decided it wasn't worth it to try to hold him on his own and let him fall back to the bed. The angle, however, was off just enough that he missed, causing Emrys to crash down on the corner of the bed on one of his formerly broken ribs. From crack Mordred had a feeling it was no longer former anymore. Oswin had warned that any magically healed injuries would still be weak. Morgana smirked at the display happily.

"I would prefer him writhing on the ground in agony, but the silence is nice, too."

_Oh, Morgana, what happened to you?_

The last time he'd seen Morgana she'd been helping the band of renegades he was staying with steal the Crystal of Neahtid from Camelot's vaults. It was the third time in barely over a year he'd lost the people who were caring for him. He knew the renegades didn't actually care _about_ him, or if they did, it was only as much as any person with a heart cared about a child. They had wanted him because of his magic and because he could do what they could not: have the unconditional support of the king's ward.

Morgana had done the deed for Mordred's sake. Back then he could have asked her to turn herself over to the crown's mercy, and she would have done so willingly. But he'd been slightly surprised when she agreed to Alvarr's plan, especially knowing the endgame of why the renegade group wanted the crystal. Mordred himself harboured no love for Uther either, but their plan would not only have killed Uther, but destroyed Arthur, whom Morgana considered a brother long before she found out he actually was.

That was what had given Mordred pause then, as it did now. Arthur Pendragon had done him no wrong, not intentionally anyway. Yes, he had –twice– attacked Mordred's home and cut down his people. But both times it had been at the behest of his father, and both times the attacks had been aggravated by reasons other than magic. And he hadn't even known the boy himself was there either time. Mordred hadn't lied to Emrys. He did owe Arthur a debt for saving his life, and he did still hope he would get a chance to repay it.

That didn't seem likely with Morgana around. But Mordred needed her. And more than that, she needed him. The hatred he saw on her face whenever she spoke of Arthur or looked upon Emrys frightened him. Mordred had heard of what Morgana had done. Twice she had attempted to usurp the crown. Probably she had tried even more than that, but like the time with the crystal, her own part in the crimes had gone undetected. Mordred understood why she had done it the first time, when Uther was still alive. She wanted revenge upon the father who had rejected her both as a father and as a magic user. He didn't understand the second time. Arthur had done her no wrong. He would have accepted her. The prince had saved a druid boy with magic who he knew nothing about; he would have forgiven his own sister in a heartbeat if she asked.

But Morgana would never ask. Not this Morgana, not anymore. He'd begun to fear that when he first started looking for her nearly a year ago. Mordred had thought if he had advertised where he was, Morgana would come to him immediately. But she had remained silent and absent. It wasn't until he put out word he had captured Emrys that she had come running.

When she arrived, Mordred could tell she still loved him just as much as he had missed her. As much as he still missed her. This woman before him wasn't his Morgana. But she was still in there. He just knew it. All he had to do was prove it to her.

Morgana held out a hand and smiled brightly at him. "Come, Mordred. We have an appointment with my dear brother I would hate to miss. Aithusa's already gone ahead with a message for your little physician friend to let her know when we shall arrive."

Mordred took her hand, making sure not to let go of Emrys in the process. Yes, that was still her hand, soft and comforting. There was no malice in her light grip. He wished he could hold on forever.

"Are your people ready to depart?"

He started a bit at that. He hadn't even thought about taking _any_ of his own people. He'd assumed she had her own army, and he would merely provide himself and Emrys. Most of his household were children, after all. Letting Oswin in was one thing; she was older, and she had insisted, practically twisting his arm to get him to allow her even the smallest part in his plan. In the end he had been the one to come up with the idea to send her ahead before Morgana showed up. That way if Morgana changed the plan… well, then he could always mind-speak with her to get her out of the way before anything happened.

He hadn't wanted to include anyone else (he hadn't wanted to include Oswin). But there was his Morgana, holding his hand and looking at him so expectantly, and he couldn't just say _no_, could he?

"I have a boy to look after Emrys while we ride. It shouldn't be hard so long as we keep him like this." Oh, Oswin was going to _kill_ him. "And of course one or two I can bring alone to serve you in any way you need. But…" he hesitated, unsure how to phrase it delicately. "Morgana, you understand most of my people are unfit for actual fighting."

Morgana laughed, a sweet, tinkling giggle. "Oh, Mordred, I don't need them to _fight_. You just leave that to me. All I need you to worry about is keeping our little _friend_ here alive until we get home." She gave his hand a squeeze. "Or you can just let him die and we'll move on to my plan. It doesn't matter to me. Although yours is starting to grow on me just a teensy bit."

She let go of him and moved merrily from the room. Mordred sighed and looked angrily back down at the unconscious Emrys. "This is _your_ fault." He spat under his breath. "_You_ made her this way." He reached down and threw the man over his shoulder. It was easier than he would have thought. The warlock had been allowed to do far too much damage to himself while Mordred had preoccupied dancing about over the fact that he had found Morgana at last. He heard an insensible groan as the injured young man was jostled into place. "But it doesn't matter. I'm here now. I won't let you hurt her anymore."

As he carried Emrys out the room, calling to one of the passing servants to fetch Tyus and two of the women who weren't mothers –although he was still not letting them anywhere near where they could possibly get hurt– Mordred wasn't sure if he hated the warlock more for what he'd done to him personally, or to the magical community as a whole, or to Morgana. It made for such a long list of transgressions that he couldn't see how it even mattered in the end. When he'd been a child, Mordred had worshiped the story of Emrys. Of course, by then his people knew it was much more than a story. He'd been told how those who were alive at the time could actually _feel_ when Emrys was born into the world, bringing with him all the natural magic of the earth. Mordred had understood what they meant when he'd first met the young man, who practically radiated power.

At that moment, Mordred had shifted his worship from the story to the person. He'd _loved_ Emrys. He'd believed the legends before, of course, but now his whole heart was in them, because he had seen Emrys, had been saved by him, and he knew it was true. Emrys and the Once and Future King had been tested, and they had not failed him.

How naïve he had been.

It should have been obvious, even back then. Emrys had not wished to save him. Mordred had had to beg him. The prince had had to threaten him. They had almost been caught because Emrys had not come. Was not going to come. Because it was clear to Mordred now. Emrys didn't care about his destiny beyond where it concerned Arthur. He didn't care about Mordred, or Morgana, or any of them.

Which meant Mordred was going to have to do the caring for him.

Mordred still believed in the legends. After everything, he still did, truly. He still believed that Emrys was meant to help Arthur return magic to the lands. But he had since learned there might be other ways that could happen. Oswin came from a sect nearly like those renegades he had once lived with that believed that the only way was to get rid of the blocking factor, by any means necessary. Unfortunately her personal preferred means fell along the same lines as Morgana's. Mordred was still hoping for a more peaceful solution. Emrys could leave these lands and take his precious king with him. Then Morgana could have the throne and Mordred could have Morgana and sorcerers could use magic and everyone could be happy.

Or maybe he was being naïve now, too.

* * *

Merlin was moving, that was all he knew. His own body was rhythmically shaking, some kind of pressure evenly distributed under him from his head to his rump. Well, not _evenly_, perhaps. There was something sharp sticking into his ribs. He seemed to be draped over something, his arms and legs hanging down. When he tried to raise himself, a weight pressed down from all sides, cutting into him. That was okay, he supposed. He wasn't sure he had the strength to move himself anyway. He could see nothing. He could hear nothing.

The lack of sensory perception was almost enough to make him panic, but he stilled his breathing. He had to focus, to figure out where he was. Merlin twitched his fingers around as much as he dared. There, fur. A horse then; he must be lashed to a horse. Which meant they really were moving towards Camelot. His heart soared just as it sank. He was going home. He was going home so he could be used as a doomsday weapon.

He was running out of ways to stop it, but it was hard to stop a plan you didn't know the details of. So far as he knew, Mordred just wanted him to talk to Arthur. Well, Merlin knew what to do about that; he could just shut his mouth. Even with the brand, Mordred couldn't _make_ him talk. Merlin had already proven he would rather die first. Yet Mordred seemed so certain.

Then there were Morgana's reassurances that he didn't need to be alive for _her_ plan to work.

Merlin jumped –or as much as person could jump when they're tied down and weak from malnourishment– as a weight fell on his shoulder. The weight spread out a bit, and he was able to identify it as a hand. A small hand. The rhythmic shaking was starting to slow. Were they in Camelot already? Merlin had no idea how long he'd been unconscious for this time. They could be stopping for the night, or a water break, or to throw him off a cliff, there was no way for him to tell.

Pressure appeared at his lips. He knew what _that_ was. Habit more than anything now made him seal his lips tight. They would be pried open soon, and he would be choking on his own vomit again, but Arthur was forever telling him how he was an idiot who didn't know how to learn from his mistakes. The pressure increased as whatever flask or bottle it was was pressed more forcefully, trying to break through the seal.

**"Please, Emrys. You have t' drink something, or you'll die. I can't be the one responsible for killing Emrys; I just ****_can't_****."**

Merlin startled at the sudden sound in his mind after so much lack of, and started even more at the guilt that followed the desperate words. That was the little boy, Tyus. They must have put the child in charge of looking after him again, deciding that in this state there wasn't much he could do to attack and escape again.

**"Where are we?" **Even his mental voice was worn, though he was pleased that it didn't slur like his spoken one did (at least he didn't think so).

**"I heard the master say we're about an hour's ride from Camelot. Now ****_please_****, it's just water, I swear."**

Merlin hesitated a moment longer. It was one thing to defy Morgana and Mordred. _They_ meant him harm, meant _Arthur_ harm. This boy just wanted him to live, _needed_ him to live, probably so that he wouldn't be killed himself.

Merlin gave in and allowed half a swallow to trickle into his throat, his throat spasming painfully at the intrusion.

Mordred watched as Tyus set up a bedroll for himself before tending to Emrys as he'd been instructed. They would be attacking close to midnight, so he had told the boy to get some sleep if he could, but leave the warlock on the horse. There was no point to dragging him off just to throw him back on a few hours later. In the meantime, however, he did need to attempt to feed him. Mordred had been going to do it himself, but Morgana held him back.

"Let him hear."

"I thought you didn't want me to–"

She smirked and pointed to her temple. "No. Let him _hear._"

Mordred nodded tersely and sent a message to the boy before releasing slightly on the warlock's bond. To the outside observer nothing had changed, Tyus still trying to dump water into Emrys's mouth and Emrys still refusing. Only the sudden twitch of a head indicated the young man was even hearing anything. "I don't still how this going to–"

Mordred stared as Tyus broke into a smile and Emrys swallowed reflexively. The warlock began hacking from the foreign activity, but he had done it, voluntarily drinking, even just a tiny bit. "How did you know that would work?"

Morgana cocked an eyebrow, and her smirk grew knowingly. "A little innocent druid boy? Of course Merlin gave in. He just can't help himself. He'd let himself be used before he let the child die. There is a _reason_ he let himself get into this state, Mordred. He's a self-sacrificing idiot. Always has been."

If Mordred wasn't mistaken –which he had to admit he very well might be –there was just the tiniest morsel of reminiscent fondness there. If he was right, which he prayed he was, it both delighted and crushed him. As much as he wanted Morgana to be thinking thoughts of kindness, he did _not_ want those thoughts to be directed towards Emrys. Arthur, yes. Himself, well, those were already there. But Emrys… _no._

He had lied when he said he didn't care if Emrys killed Arthur. Mostly because he knew Emrys never _would_ kill Arthur, so if Mordred's plan went through, Arthur would live. Mordred wanted Arthur to live. Because he had a feeling that his Morgana would never really be happy until she had her brother back.

Now Emrys… The more time Mordred spent with Morgana, the woman who had spent the last years of her life thwarted by a meddling servant and tormented by the ghost of a sorcerer, the more Mordred could not look upon him without disgust. The last time he'd seen Emrys he'd told him he would never forgive him. At the time, those were the words of a frightened child. Now they were the words of a man. A man who'd spent his life watching his world fall apart.

Yes, he cared if Arthur lived.

But he did not care if Emrys died.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Happy 5****th**** Merlin anniversary! So, I'm planning on updating this three times a week from now on. Look for it Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Yes, I know I'm terrible at keeping my promises, but I'm really, really going to try, because I want to spend October planning my NaNoWriMo.**

**I'm glad to hear people are enjoying Mordred! I love multi-layered characters. There's a bit of Oswin POV in here (not sure how much I'll do of her in the future since I'm not big on OC's) that I hope will be like that, too.**

**I'm a bit so-so on this chapter. It feels a bit stagnant to me for the most part in terms of moving the story forwards, but is filled with information you need to know. Maybe it's just because I like a bit more action and this is more exposition.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Gaius wondered if the king hated him as much as the physician currently hated himself. _I never should have said yes. Why did I say yes?_ When the letter came from the young girl inquiring about a position as a physician's assistant, he had been hesitant at first. He'd wanted to immediately say no. It was too soon to even think about having someone else underfoot. Hadn't there been enough betrayal of late without him adding himself to the list? But when he went to send his reply, somehow the words "I would be pleased to have you" had been the ones to come out.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to be able to say yes to someone else coming in.

When the girl Oswin had arrived, Gaius had arranged for her to room with the other servants. He couldn't bear to have anyone in the room in the far end of his quarters, even if propriety _had_ stood for it. Technically speaking, it was his own room, which he had given up without a thought years ago, but he refused to go back to it. Instead the door remained closed, its contents untouched. He knew he'd have to deal with it eventually, but the situation didn't feel real yet. He was beginning to wonder if it ever would.

He was a physician, trained to deal with the dead and dying his entire life, which had been far from short. This should be nothing new. He should be used to this by now. It shouldn't hurt so much.

There were plenty of indications that _yes_, this _was_ happening. The presence of his new assistant, for one. A presence that now that she was here he was drowned with even more guilt over how easy it was to get used to having her around. Not that she was a bad student. Indeed, Oswin came with a plethora of knowledge, and what she didn't know, she learned quickly, so that within the first couple of days Gaius had no qualms about her ability to treat patients on her own. Most of her experience likely came from the fact that she was a druid, a detail Gaius decided was best kept between the two of them for the time being, advising her to keep her symbol hidden when around others. Technically speaking the druids were no longer being persecuted by the crown since peace had been made between them three years ago after the incident with Elyan, but reason was not Arthur's strong point at the moment. Oswin swore she had no magic, but the concepts of druid and sorcerer were too closely linked for comfort to be trifled with.

If there were any similarities between this situation and another Gaius had previously found himself in, he was conveniently ignoring them.

There was another group of people in Camelot who had an opinion about his new assistant. Unfortunately, they did not appear to be conflicted in their feelings towards her at all. And they had no qualms with letting these feelings be known. Her second day Oswin had returned from fetching water with an odd look on her face.

"Gaius, is it common for the knights to refuse to be treated for their training injuries?"

Gaius had raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Sometimes. Depending on the severity they may not wish to bother with it. They don't always worry about treating every minor scratch, elsewise they would forever be in and out of my chambers."

"What about broken bones?"

The second eyebrow joined the first. "Who did you see with a broken bone? Did you tell them you were my assistant? They should have come to see me immediately so the bone could be set." He began to gather his things to track down the errant knight, scoffing inwardly at their prideful folly.

Oswin looked down sheepishly. "I don't really know all the names yet, but they were a big man, with blond, curly hair." _Leon,_ sighed Gaius, with quite a bit of surprise. Leon knew better than that; he wasn't generally one to ignore when he was hurt, particularly when doing so could impair his ability to do his duty. "I did mention who I was and offer to help, but then they got rather angry and walked away."

Gaius's shoulders slumped briefly, realization sinking in. "I'm sure it was nothing," he reassured her, forcing a smile. "I'll speak to him later. He probably had other things on his mind and will be by later." _Other things like a certain servant who used to be my assistant_. He was sure he would be speaking to Leon and several others of the knights later, though not about any broken bones.

Luckily –or on purpose, more likely– Oswin was gone for the night when that time came. Not only did Leon and the knights come by, but also Gwen, much to his surprise. Though he supposed he should have seen that coming. The former servant-turned queen had a good heart and a mild nature, but Merlin had been her best friend.

"You didn't mention you were hiring anyone," Gwaine accused after a moment's silence. Gaius could see where Leon's wrist had been wrapped with a scrap of cloth, probably by Gwen, who had the most medical training of the group after helping him for so many years.

Gaius remained where he sat at his table, the dinner he hadn't been hungry enough to bring himself to eat growing cold in front of him. He wasn't sure what to say. He had no real defence for himself and didn't care to create one. Part of him argued petulantly that he shouldn't _need_ one, but it was a very small part. "Did you expect me to carry on alone forever?" he asked quietly.

"Of course not, Gaius, and we're sure she's a lovely girl, but it's just… it's so _soon_," Gwen replied, coming to sit next to him. "I guess we were just surprised, that's all."

"Does the princess know?"

"Yes, Gwaine. I told Arthur after I accepted her request for apprenticeship."

"Well, of course he's fine with it. Just like he's _fine_ with Merlin being dead–"

"Gwaine!" Gwen cried, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Don't say things like that! I know he's been acting strangely, but Arthur's hurting too, just like the rest of us."

"You have to admit he's been having some weird mood swings, Gwen," Elyan added, eyeing his sister hesitantly as if expecting her to snap at –or slap at– him next. "First he won't speak to anyone, then he suddenly starts running around again like nothing happened."

"He's just adjusting…" Gwen argued back weakly, but Gaius could tell she, too, was frustrated with her husband's attitudes. "Of course it's going to be harder for him. He was _there_, after all… He's the only one who knows what really went on out there."

"Because he won't tell us!" Gwaine cried. "It's not like no one has tried to share the burden with him or anything. Merlin was our friend too. It'd be nice to know what happened to him. It'd be nice to at least have a_ funeral_ for him!"

There was a collective wince at that. It was true, in the days immediately following the king's return, a memorial for the fallen servant had been put off in light of Arthur's refusal to leave his chambers. Since there was no body to intern, it was decided there was no need to rush. However, once Arthur had taken up his duties once more, still talk had been brushed aside. While most of the castle saw this as no big thing, the dead being only a mere servant, those closest to the king could not conceal their confusion.

Gaius, however, knew better. A funeral may have once been had for his ward, but now the chances were slim to none unless it was planned by those before him. Arthur was too confused and heartbroken at the moment. However, no one but himself and Arthur knew why that was. Was it time to tell them? Merlin had always wanted his friends to know his dearest secret, that oh-so-important hidden part of his very soul. Of course, he had also always wanted to be the one to reveal it. That was impossible now.

But after the way Arthur had reacted, should Gaius tell them? Did it even matter now? On the one hand, Merlin was finally safe. There was nothing they could do to him now if the world found out. On the other hand, knowing Merlin had lied to him had destroyed Arthur. He had gone from one extreme grief to the other, so that he was no longer mourning his loss of friendship, but his supposed lack of one. Could he really do that to these people, too, or to Merlin's memory? Should he? Was now really the time?

"I'll talk to him about it," Gwen promised, though she did not appear as if she looked forward to the encounter. "I'm sure he just hasn't wanted to think about it. Once we have a memorial it's final, after all."

"It's final already," Percival murmured. "Putting it off won't change that."

"Guess we all have to learn how to move on, don't we?" Leon sighed. No one was quite sure what to say in response to that. He looked sheepishly down at his bandaged wrist. "I apologize for how I –how we _all_– reacted towards your new apprentice, Gaius. We will try to be more welcoming in the future, even if it's only for your sake."

"Thank you, Leon. I'll tend to that break now, if you wish."

And they _were_ kinder to Oswin after that, though they still only sought out Gaius to treat them, brushing her off much more subtly when they accrued wounds in training or on patrol. Gwaine was the worst of the group, tending to avoid her entirely rather than attempt to make an excuse about why his cuts and bruises were really just minor things that didn't need a cleaning. Unfortunately he also tended to be the one to get injured the most, usually in fights at the tavern after one pint too many, an occurrence that was happening more and more as, like Arthur, he found his own destructive way to deal with his grief. Luckily the others (usually Gwen) would take pity on him, bandaging –and sobering– him up afterwards so that no one would find out.

* * *

And of course there was the king, who came barging in at least once a day with a short tirade of some kind.

"So you're saying he came to Camelot, a place that _executes sorcerers_, and decided 'Hey, I think I'll learn magic!'?"

"No, sire. Merlin was born with magic. He never had a choice in the matter."

And every time Gaius's extended explanation would be cut off by the slamming of his door as Arthur stalked away.

"Okay, fine, he was born a sorcerer. I can deal with that; you were a sorcerer too. But you don't use magic anymore. Why didn't he just stop, too?"

"It's not that easy, sire. When I said Merlin didn't have a choice, I really meant he didn't have a choice."

Another slam.

"All right. So if he was insisting on using magic and supposedly just doing it to 'protect me,' then why exactly did he allow us to be caught and tormented by slavers to begin with? Is he just as terrible at doing that job as he is at being a servant?"

"I wouldn't say that, sire. I would say he did quite well."

"Oh, really?"

"Really. You might notice that you, at least, are still alive."

The door nearly came off its hinges. Arthur didn't come back after that.

Each time one of these "conversations" happened, Oswin would always just happen to be in the room. Gaius wondered if the king planned it that way so that he wouldn't have to be alone with the old man. It was clear Arthur was displeased about her employment, though he hadn't gone so far as to sack her, as he had the authority to do. In fact, unlike the knights, it seemed he was much more comfortable these days seeking out her services than Gaius's. At first Gaius was worried that he was only doing so to search out some kind of small fault he could use as grounds to get rid of the girl, but soon he realized his fears were for naught.

If they were fears. He couldn't deny there was a tiny, unfair part of him that harboured a hope that someone would rectify the mistake he'd made in taking her on in the first place.

* * *

Gwen tiptoed around her husband for the next few days, waiting for the right opportunity to suggest Merlin's funeral. By this point she knew it would have to be only a small affair. It likely would have been anyway. The council and court would have questioned why the crown was bothering to have a funeral for a servant in the first place, not that Arthur would have cared what they thought. At least, that's how Gwen would have expected him to react. Now she wasn't so sure.

She finally cornered him before they retired for the night, waiting until he dismissed George before she broached the topic. She had her placations all planned out. Of course it would have to be only a ceremonial event, being that they had no body, but there had been none for Lancelot either and that had been okay. They would only worry about inviting Merlin's closest friends: the knights, Gaius, and the two monarchs. Perhaps since they'd waited this long they may as well take another couple of days and send for his mother as well, but Gwen had a feeling she, at least, had already gone through her process of grieving. In pained the queen that Merlin had had so few that had cared about him as deeply as the ones who would be there, but then she supposed she didn't have many besides them either anymore.

"Arthur…" she waited until her husband was at least looking in her direction. He had yet to actually look _at_ her. And though he was doing fine running the kingdom again, conversing with lords and millers and the like, he had yet to have a conversation with her, at least of the meaningful sort. She hadn't pushed it, glad that he was at least no longer locking himself in their rooms and refusing to come out, but it had to stop. "The knights and Gaius and I were wondering… well, we wanted to know what you were planning to do about a funeral for Merlin."

"What about it?" Arthur snapped. He abandoned his course of action of turning down the bedclothes and went to his desk, fiddling with a few papers upon it, though he was hardly looking them close enough to tell what they said.

"Well, we wanted to decide when we'll be having it. We've been putting it off while you were recovering, but I think it's time–"

"No."

"No?" Gwen blinked, startled by the clipped tone. She must have heard that wrong. He was _not _saying what she thought he was. "What do you mean? Arthur, I know it's difficult, but we really must–"

"I mean there will be no funeral. There is no body; there will be no funeral. He was just a servant. He wasn't a noble, nor was he a knight. He was a servant. Nothing but a servant. Now, if you will excuse me, Guinevere, I have a bit more work I need to do for the night before I can turn in. Don't wait up for me."

With that he scooped up a sheaf of documents and stalked out of the room and into the corridors, completely ignoring the fact that he was barefoot and in his nightclothes.

Gwen felt like she'd been slapped. She'd known something was wrong, that Arthur was hurting more than even she would have expected. But now she was more confused than ever. How could he simply deny a service for Merlin? How could he simply deny what Merlin had meant to him? What exactly had happened with those slave traders?

What had happened to Merlin?

* * *

Oswin smiled as she picked up the small scrap of paper from the forest floor. To anyone else, it was just a simple piece of refuse unworthy of note, probably dropped by some random traveller. To her it a thin mist of light seemed to beckon her towards it. It was a complicated bit of magic, one that never would have been able to be accomplished if it weren't for the presence of her brother providing a blood-tie.

_I will come for you at midnight in two days' time. Meet me at the city gate. Be ready. I'll be waiting anxiously for you._

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. It was a clever little bit of phrasing. If anyone _did_ get curious, it looked like it was simply a note between two forbidden lovers planning to steal away in the middle of the night. Of course, several of the older servants in Mordred's household did think of them that way, but it was all gossip and imagination. Mordred was a nice boy, to be sure, and she was certainly extremely grateful to him for all he'd done for her and her brother, but gratitude and friendship was all that there was between them. Besides, Oswin knew Mordred's handwriting, and this wasn't it, which meant Morgana had sent the message.

Regardless of who had sent it or what exactly it said, it meant that Oswin needed to get down to business. She had completed the first part of her task swimmingly. It had taken little effort at all to get the still grieving physician to trust her with even the most sensitive of his work preparations. She knew every ingredient he had in his stores, as well as every tonic and tincture taken by the various members of the court. It had taken even less effort to gain the confidence of the king, if she could call it that. She would have thought he would call on the actual Court Physician for all of his troubles, but every time she found herself being called out by his servant George, despite Gaius's presence right beside her. Gaius never seemed to mind, simply shrugging and shooing her along.

Each interaction with the king (not that there were _that_ many –it wasn't like he was fileting himself daily or anything) made her more and more confident that their plan was the best one. Other than that one brief conversation, he hadn't so much as said two words to her other than to thank her for her services, but his mannerisms while she was there spoke enough about his character. Mordred had spoken almost respectfully of the man, but she just couldn't see it. But then, he'd only met him when he was a child, and then only for hardly enough time to even consider it a meeting.

Oswin strode confidently into the physician's quarters. It wouldn't do for her to be poking her head around the corner. If Gaius _was_ there, such behaviour would only rouse suspicion. There was no reason for her _not_ to be in the room, not when she was _supposed_ to be returning with the herbs she had gone off to gather. As it happened, the room was empty. Just the way she preferred it.

With a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure that no one was coming, she eased open the door of the small adjoining room and slipped inside. She'd noticed early on that no one touched this room, even though it had clearly once been used. Clothes and books were strewn about, and the bed was unmade. Occasionally she would see Gaius looking off at the closed door with a sad look on his face that had helped her draw the connection it had belonged to Emrys. Mordred had told her of his connection with the warlock. She felt slightly guilty invading the old man's grieving like this, even if Emrys wasn't actually dead, but at least that meant that no one would be coming in any time soon, and privacy was what she needed.

Oswin reached a hand under the bed, avoiding rotten apple cores and possibly rotten socks, feeling for the two tiny glass bottles she'd hidden there. At first she'd thought to hide them amoungst her own things, but her place in the servant's quarters was far from private, and thievery was rampant. The last thing she needed was for some slick-fingered little boy to pick them up and drink them thinking to have a little fun. The woods was another option, but she risked not being able to find them again, or having some ruffian come across them, or even just a deer. No, this was risky, but by far the least.

The clear liquid sparkled in the dying sunlight, and she tucked it quickly into the bosom of her dress, adjusting it to make sure nothing showed. Then she made for the door. Gaius could return at any time, and there was no explanation she could give for why she would be in a dead man's room. Oswin slipped back out, making sure the latch was closed tightly behind her.

She was barely at the bottom of the steps when the door opened.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was looking for Gaius. Is he not here?"

Oswin curtsied clumsily, her heart pounding in her chest. "No, my lady. He's at the market at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?"

The queen frowned a moment, her forehead wrinkling in frustration, but then she seemed to smooth her features out diplomatically. "I suppose you could. I came to see if there was something you could give Arthur to help him sleep? I know I've asked Gaius before, and I know Arthur says he doesn't want it, but… I really think it might help."

Oswin went over the shelves and pretended to fuss with a few bottles. "Is my lord having troubles with his rest?"

The queen sighed and sat at the table. Oswin hadn't had many interactions with the queen. Like several of the knights, the woman tended to avoid her for some reason. She was never unkind, though. Looking at her now, Oswin thought she seemed rather tired herself. "He won't admit it, but I think he's still reliving his time with the slavers. I wouldn't be surprised if he was. If it was me I probably wouldn't ever sleep again."

"Slavers?" It was Oswin's turn to frown.

"Oh, yes, you weren't here. A little while ago Arthur was taken by slave traders. They sold him back to us, most unharmed, thank the gods, but…" the queen trailed off, and Oswin could see she was struggling to hold back tears even thinking about. Oswin was struggling, too, though tears were not her problem. "Our friend, Merlin, who was taken with him… he… he was killed. Arthur's trying, I'm sure, but he's just not dealing well with it, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Oswin murmured back, eyes cast on the floor.

"Me too."

Oswin held up the sleep tonic. The queen took it wordlessly and made for the door. Just before she stepped out it Oswin called after her "My lady? I hope… I hope the king is able to sleep better soon."

The queen smiled. "Thank you, Oswin."

Oswin sat down heavily on a nearby stool, thoughts spinning. Mordred had told her that Emrys was abandoned by his king. So why did the queen say it was Emrys who had been taken from him?

* * *

**A/N: Because you are probably really confused with all this back and forth (I know I am, and I'm writing it), here's a brief timeline of vaguely how the sequence of events is going here.**

**Timeline of Events (yae!)**

**-Mordred buys Merlin**

**-Arthur is taken back to Camelot, spends week locked in room, learns (for sure) about Merlin**

**-Merlin wakes up, tries to escape (was kept in magical coma for that same period of time as above while he was healing)**

**-Oswin travels to Camelot**

**-Merlin starts to starve himself**

**-Knights talk to Gaius about Oswin**

**-Gwen talks to Arthur about funeral**

**-Arthur gets injured in a training fight with Gwaine (you can guess now what fuelled ****_that_****), gets patched up by Oswin, and learns about Morgana being in Gedref**

**-The band M's depart for Camelot**

**-Oswin gets the message from Morgana, talks to Gwen**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm in a good mood today, because I just had my first ever date not initiated by a dare or an interfering parent. While in the hospital. The continuing saga of me and Book Cart Guy can be found on my tumblr. So I'm actually still updating on time! I know, you might die of shock before you even get to read it.**

**Yey for action! Things are about to move forward, which means you get a nice long chapter filled with awesome. And now everything will be happening in the same general location, so it should be less confusing. Also, answers! We all love answers!**

**So, I've planned it out, and there should be about twenty-two-ish chapters, because they're going to start getting longer. Which means that we should be done by the end of next week! At which point I should also be hopefully getting out of the hospital!**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

"It's time."

Mordred shivered with anticipation at the words. He'd been waiting so long for this.

He gently shook Tyus awake, smiling fondly at the way the boy moaned and tried to huddle further into his bedroll a bit before realizing what was happening. Part of Mordred wished he could leave the boy here, away from the battle, but that would mean leaving him all alone in a completely foreign land. Oswin would be furious he was here in the first place, but she would murder Mordred in his sleep if he simply abandoned him in the middle of the woods.

"Wake Emrys, if you can. He won't be able to hear you or respond verbally, but shake him until he starts moving. If you still aren't sure, tell me and I'll check. Actually, before you wake him…"

Mordred stepped aside for a moment retrieving something from his saddle bags before returning. He pried the warlock's slack jaw open and poured the contents of the vial in while he was still too unconscious to deny it. Tyus had been able to give him a few drops of water earlier, but it wouldn't be enough to sustain him through the night, and Mordred needed him conscious. Really, he ought to change the parameters of his brand so that a bit more control over could be exercised over the slaves. It was just that most buyers preferred to punish impudence rather than take away will.

Of course, it wasn't all slaves Mordred wanted more control over. Just Emrys.

"That will keep him awake once it kicks in. We'll be moving soon. Stay close for now. Oswin will be waiting for us when we get there. I want you to go with her and find a place to hide. When it's safe to come out, I'll send someone for you, do you understand?" Tyus nodded quickly. Mordred knew Oswin would argue about being sent away, but the safety of her brother would come first and in the end she would obey.

He didn't want to think the knights would stoop so low as to hurt a child, but it wasn't like it hadn't happened before.

The truth was, Mordred actually had no idea what was coming. It was the one part of the plan Mordred had been perfectly happy to leave up to Morgana. He was no strategist, nor did he have any longing for bloodshed, despite knowing it was inevitable. But they had no army. It was just the two of them, Tyus and Emrys, and a handful of tagalongs Morgana had brought with her (she had turned down the women he had offered up as attendants, claiming they would only get in the way). Although three of them had considerable magical prowess, they were not exactly a force to be reckoned with, particularly since the most powerful of them all wasn't even able to use his magic without Mordred's say-so, and even if he could, his first act was not likely to be an attack on his own home.

He wasn't _worried _about it. Morgana could be rash, yes, but he didn't think she would actually go so far as to jump into a war with Camelot without a plan. In fact, he was willing to bet she spent the majority of her days that way, plotting how to sneak in, take out look-outs, lead charges, seize territories, steal alliances… The rest of her time was likely spent perfecting that smirk that Mordred hatred and justifying her actions to herself.

At least he hoped she still needed to convince herself she was doing the right thing. It would be so much easier to convince her otherwise if that was the case.

He hadn't gotten much headway in that regard, he had to admit. Every time he even tried to bring up the topic of Arthur, Morgana shut him down and changed the subject, saying she didn't want to talk about such depressing things. She wanted to hear about him, how he was doing, what had happened to him since she had last seen him. She had been interested in his discovery of the brand design, how it had catapulted him to power in the black market trade. She had granted him that old familiar fond smile when he explained how he'd used that power to purchase the child slaves cheap from the ones he dealt with.

In return Morgana had told him about her baby dragon, Aithusa. Mordred had never met a dragon before. He hadn't expected it to look like the sickly grey beast Morgana introduced to him, all knobbly and limping, shying away if he moved too quickly. Morgana's face lit up whenever she saw her pet, though, so Mordred kept his opinion that perhaps there was something wrong with the creature to himself.

Other than meeting Aithusa, however –_"She just came to me out of the blue. I swear, Mordred, it was like a little angel appearing right when I she knew I needed her most."_– Morgana refused to tell him how she'd spent her time while they'd been apart. Mordred knew parts of it from standard gossip. The saga of the Pendragon family betrayals had spread like wildfire. He knew about her alliance with her half-sister Morgause and the warlord Cenred and their brief takeover of Camelot, leading to both Cenred and Morgause's deaths. Then she'd aligned herself with Helios and Agravaine, Arthur's uncle, once again taking over Camelot for a short time, then leading to Agravaine and Helio's deaths.

Part of Mordred wondered if he should be concerned about the death rate amoung Morgana's allies.

He wasn't sure why she wouldn't open up to him. It was her continued silence that kept him from asking his biggest question, the one that weighed on him most of all: _why did you never come find me?_

He put it from his mind, as he had so many other times before. It wasn't important right now. What was important was how Morgana planned to infiltrate a stronghold with a mere dozen people.

The citadel soon came into view through the trees, casting crisp shadows on the clear night sky. Mordred drank in the sight, one he hadn't had since he was a just a boy hardly much older than Tyus. Camelot had seemed larger than life back then. It had always a place that inspired fear, for certain, for back then just the possession of the tattoo on his chest was a death sentence, but as an innocent child he hadn't been able to contain the sense of wonder that accompanied that dread. The grand city somehow didn't look any more sinister than it had back then, despite the bad memories it held.

He wondered if this was how Emrys felt, holding love for a place that would see him dead in an instant.

They halted just at the edge of the trees near the front gates. Mordred furrowed his brow. He wasn't an architect, but he would have thought that secret tunnels and such would be _behind_ the castle. At least, that's where the one Arthur had snuck him out of had been. Then it hit him. Perhaps she had thought he was being modest when he said he trusted her to plan the actual infiltration part. Maybe that was why she had asked about his "people." But he'd told her before he didn't have any, so why would she expect him to suddenly grow an army now?

"Morgana…" he began hesitantly, "I… I don't know how to get us in there."

Morgana turned to him surprised for a moment. "Don't worry, Mordred. I told you I would handle it." she smiled reassuringly, looking over the palace, not in awe, as he did, but contempt. "I have been thinking these past few days. You have shown me something, Mordred, something I never would have thought of on my own. I will never be able to thank you enough for that. You see, I don't need to kill Arthur's men to take over his throne. I simply need to _control_ them." She stretched out her hand towards the city and breathed in deep. "**Mod wæs cræftleas**."

Mordred could feel the strength of her spell flow out towards the castle, the ground nearly beginning to vibrate beneath him. Nearby, he could hear Emrys shifting for the first time in the last hour in his saddle, obviously sensing the magic that had just occurred. It sent another shiver down Mordred's spine to look her. She was a far cry from the terrified girl who wasn't even sure if she _had_ magic, only able to do practice her skills through emotion-fuelled accidents.

"There." She grinned triumphantly. "They should have no problem with locking themselves up now." Confidently she walked forward towards the front gate as though she hadn't a care in the world.

Now that she apparently didn't have to worry about an army attacking her, she probably didn't.

Mordred turned to Tyus as the others began to follow after. He started to undo the binds lashing Emrys to the horse so he could drag the man off, murmuring to the boy, "When we see Oswin, that's when I want you to go with her, alright? Tell her to hide you and then come back and find us." It wasn't feasible anymore to think Oswin would stay out of the way if Morgana was going to claim control over the army.

Mordred gave a tug on Emrys's arm drag him off the horse. The warlock sagged to the ground, either because he couldn't hold himself up or he didn't want to. With his free hand Mordred found a vial in the saddlebags and shoved it down Emrys's throat before the man even had time to realize it had happened. The effects of this potion were much faster, and he eventually got his legs back underneath himself, able to stand on his own, though Mordred kept a tight hold on his bicep. He released the block on his telepathic hearing again and began to drag him after Morgana and the others, "**We're in Camelot. I thought you might like to know, she's doing it peacefully. She hasn't killed anyone yet.**"

He didn't tell him she'd essentially taken their will from them, rendering them simple-minded enough to be unable to make their own decisions for the most part without her telling them what to do. He didn't need to know that. It was a much better method than the alternative, after all.

There was no response. Mordred frowned. Perhaps he hadn't released the block correctly? It wasn't hard, even Tyus could do it if he'd known how. He tried again. **"I said–"**

**"I heard you the first time,"** Emrys's mental voice snapped back.** "Morgana's playing nice. For now. Just how long do you think she's going to keep it up for?"**

**"She might not… She might have…"**

**"What? She might have changed? Honestly, Mordred, you think a couple of days in your presence actually had that much of a difference? What has she done in all that time to make you even think that was possible? I know you haven't seen her in six years, but I have. I watched her fall. The Morgana you knew is gone, Mordred. And she's not coming back."**

Angrily Mordred cut him off again. No, he was wrong. Morgana could change; she'd done so already. Didn't he realize he should be dead right now? Morgana was simply going to kill him when she learned he was mostly dead already from his little starving stunt. It was Mordred who'd convinced her to keep him alive, that he would be more useful in swaying Arthur than if they simply tossed him at the king as a bloody corpse. Morgana had relented, had even gone down and feed him herself. Emrys should be _grateful_. Mordred had thought he even saw _worry _for the warlock in her eyes when they finally figured out what he had done.

Why was it that every stupid breakthrough Morgana had seemed to revolve around Emrys?

He dragged Emrys along faster, ignoring the way the other man stumbled on his unsteady feet, catching up on the lost distance between them and Morgana, who was nodding her head condescendingly at the guards who allowed her to walk right past, much to the consternation and terror of the townspeople, who fled screaming into their homes as the tiny party passed. They passed more guards and a handful of knights as they waltzed into the courtyard, but again, no one stopped them. Instead they simply watched curiously, as if riveted by the newcomers and unsure why.

"Ah, Sir Elyan," she said cheerily. "So good to see you again. Be a dear and lead the others into the dungeons, will you? Be sure that they are locked up securely. I wouldn't want anyone escaping on me. Then if you could have a few of your knight friends find my dear brother and his wife and lead them to the throne room? If they resist, you have permission to use force. Thank you oh so much."

Mordred watched in fascinated horror as the oddly familiar knight did as she asked without hesitation, calling to several others to do her bidding on the second request. They actually looked confoundedly pleased to be following her orders.

"Aw, look how efficient this is, Mordred. Really, I can't believe I never tried it before. I see what drove you into creating those brands. Even though you won't have to do that anymore now that you'll be living here in the castle, you might think about changing your design a bit to have more of an effect like this. That slave would be far more useful this way."

No matter how serenely she smiled he could see the bloodlust in her eyes. Emrys was right, this wasn't going to last lo– no. It would last. She was going to do this peacefully. Emrys would ask Arthur to step down from the throne so that magic would return to the land. Morgana would rule with Mordred at her side. The prophecy would be fulfilled. They would be happy.

It was funny how she'd just expressed the same idea he'd been having earlier that night about changing the type of control enforced by the brand. He wondered what that meant. Was she starting to think more the old way he was aiming for?

Or was he starting to think the new way she had become?

At least if she asked, he knew the answer to the question she would likely ask. This spell wouldn't work on Emrys. It was a failsafe in the design. It hadn't been an original part of the design when he'd discovered it, though he swore to every slaver who wish to buy one that it was and could not be removed. He'd put it in himself as a silent apology to his parents about what lengths he had turned to. No enchantment could be worked on the wearer except one of healing.

He sincerely doubted this counted as healing.

Mordred followed Morgana as she made her way through the citadel. He'd been inside twice, years ago, but the only places he'd really gone were Morgana's chambers and the dungeons. She wasn't leading him to either location now. Instead she threw open a large set of doors, her face lighting up as she laid eyes on the throne at the far end of the room. She practically sprinted to it, caressing it lovingly with one shaking hand before lowering herself down onto it.

Mordred stepped up beside her, keeping a hold on Emrys. He wasn't sure yet if this was their final stop, and if it wasn't he wasn't sure if he would be able to get the warlock back up again. It was then he realized Tyus was still tagging along behind him.

Oswin had not met them.

Mordred felt his pulse quicken. Morgana had said she sent a message saying when they would be there and where to meet them. Oswin was a part of the plan. Oswin should have been there. If only he could mind-speak with her. Her brother had the skill, but she didn't, just as she had magic, but he did not.

Morgana was ordering around her people, telling them to make sure her "little dears were being good boys and doing as they were told." Mordred used her distraction to whisper to Tyus, "Go find your sister. She's probably in the physician's chambers; maybe someone fell ill, and she couldn't break away without causing suspicion. I don't know where exactly they are, so you'll have to ask one of the servants, if you can find one. They don't seem to be under the spell, and you should be able to blend in. If you see anyone with a sword who doesn't look like they're enchanted, hide. In fact, if you see anyone with a sword period, hide. Don't take any chances, okay?"

Tyus nodded, his eyes wide with concentration and an ample amount of fear. Then he scurried away out the back of the large room, taking care not to draw the attention of Morgana.

"Mordred?" His own attention was brought back to the lady in question as she called his name sweetly. "Hide the sorcerer. I want it to be a surprise."

* * *

Arthur was going to kill the cook. He was going to march down to the kitchens and fire every single cook and kitchen maid and serving boy and then he would hire all new ones, and it would serve them right for doing this to him.

Later. He would do it later.

Right now he was busy expelling the contents of last week's meal into his chamber pot. He was sure that had to be what it was because that was all he had left in him, after the night he'd had. Even Guinevere had been sympathetic for the first time since his drastic mood change, staying beside him the entire time, dabbing his sweat away with a cool cloth, holding his head in her lap and singing to him soothingly (at least when his head wasn't occupied with the chamber pot).

Gaius had tried three different potions already, but none of them seemed to help even cease the vomiting, let alone ease the nausea, which had led to him and Guinevere exchanging worried glances that Arthur had been too busy curling up on himself to notice. If he had, he would have noticed Guinevere nervously mouth the word "_poison?_" and Gaius raising an eyebrow as if to say, "It's too soon to be jumping to conclusions, my lady, but we must consider the possibility" –Gaius always seemed to have a knack for conveying full sentences in a look.

If any of them had looked, they might have noticed Oswin shift anxiously at the exchange.

The physician and his assistant were back now, George having been sent for them. Arthur was shaking from the exhaustion of heaving so many times, his abdominal muscles cramped and aching. Guinevere was starting to panic. He was refusing to drink even a sip of the water Gaius had told her he needed to have if he wasn't going to dry out, pleading with her, reasoning that maybe if he just got it all out, maybe then it would _stop_.

"Gaius, please, I know the other ones didn't work, but can't you do something? Perhaps put him to sleep? At least if he's asleep he won't be in any more pain, right?"

Gaius sighed. He'd been investigating with Oswin all night to find out what substance, if any, could have been used on the king. That there was one, he was sure. Normal stomach ailments simply didn't _not_ respond to treatment. "Yes, I think that would be for the best. Arthur, do you think you can stand? If not I can call someone in to help. I'm not sure if these two would be quite strong enough to lift you all the way to the bed."

Arthur responded with a guttural moan. He did _not_ want to move. He wanted to stay here, on his wife's lap, where all he had to do was lift his head the tiniest bit to reach the chamber pot. The bed was all the way on the other side of the room. He could only _imagine _what could happen in such a breadth of space.

The queen and Gaius were so focus on the king and the king was so focused on his agony that neither of them were paying any attention to Oswin, which was a good thing, since she was utterly failing to hide her emotions. Of course, anyone might think it was distress for Arthur's plight she was feeling, but since she had caused it, pouring the entire contents of her bottle onto his evening meal of chicken.

But really, it was because she shouldn't be here. She was supposed to be at the castle gates. Those were her instructions. What if they needed her to raise the portcullis? Well, Oswin couldn't actually _do_ that, she didn't have the physical strength nor magical ability, but they might need her for something, and here she was doing nothing! She'd meant to get away earlier, when she was normally dismissed for the night, but Gaius had kept her to help him investigate the possibility that the king had been poisoned, and since that was exactly what she _didn't_ want him to find out, Oswin had had to stay.

She didn't much care whether or not they knew that this had been done on purpose. They could even find out she was the one who did it for all she cared. After all, it wouldn't matter soon. But Oswin couldn't risk them discovering the antidote. It was safely hidden in her dress, but the physician might somehow know about it. He was extremely knowledgeable when it came to the old ways, it wasn't such a leap to think he might know druid poisons and antidotes.

There was a quick rapping on the door, and suddenly it burst open. A young man slammed it shut again, throwing the lock into place, then turning to them and giving a jerky bow to the king and queen before collapsing against the wood.

"George! What's going on? What's wrong?"

The little puppet man gave his halting bows again. "Sire, my lady, I– I don't know what happened! There was no alarm! The knights –they just vanished! I overheard someone saying they were simply walking towards the dungeons all on their own for no apparent reason! And she just walked in, and I don't –I don't–"

"Breath, George," Gaius commanded as he went and led the quivering servant to a chair. George gave a quick look over at the royal before he seemed to decide it was alright to sit since they already were. Or rather, the king was more _sprawled_, but that was hardly the point right now–

"George, who exactly do you mean by 'she?'" Gwen had a terrible thought that she already knew, but she wanted to hear the words for herself.

"My lady, I'm sorry, I don't know really what to properly call her anymore now, if she still has her title–"

"Morgana," Arthur croaked from the floor.

"How could she have gotten in? There were no warning bells. I haven't even heard any evidence of fighting." Gwen craned her head to look over the windowsill, as if expecting to see the lower town silently burning.

"I don't know, my lady!" George seemed more distressed by his lack of knowledge than by the actual attack. "We must get yourself and your majesty out of the castle. The former lady Morgana already has control over the throne room. I will escort you myself."

Arthur let out another low moan. There was that talk about _moving_ again.

"But we can't. Arthur can't even get up on his own. Even between all of us we'd never manage to get him out of here without anyone noticing."

They all realized it then, or at least Gwen, Arthur, and Gaius did. This was the point. Every other time Morgana had tried to take over Camelot, her plans had been thwarted by Arthur's escape.

So she'd ensured that he couldn't escape this time.

The door to the chambers rattled. It didn't quite thud, as if someone had thrown themselves against it, only shook a bit, like the opener hadn't expected to encounter resistance. Then, remarkably, they heard a knock.

"Sire? Are you in there?"

"That's Elyan!" Gwen cried. She breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't alone. Maybe her brother wasn't alone. If they only had even two knights they might be able to sneak away. Perhaps they could with just Elyan, if they had George to help.

Gaius went to the door and unlatched it. Elyan wasn't alone. He had all of Arthur's closest knights with him. Gwen was a bit surprised, but only slightly. She knew all of these men. Of course their first instinct would be to protect her and Arthur.

But then they did something she wasn't expecting at all. Percival grabbed Arthur, hoisting him up and throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The movement caused Arthur to lose his stomach contents again, but none of the knights even blinked an eye. Gwen opened her mouth to shout in shocked protest, but then she found herself being seized as well, each of her arms being taken into custody by Elyan and Gwaine.

"What on _earth_ are you doing? Have you lost your minds? Percival, put him down! Gwaine, if you ever want me to give you my hangover tonic again, you'll let me go this instant. _Elyan, I swear I will disown you!_"

But her words fell on uncaring ears as they began to cart the royals from the room. In fact, the men simply looked at her, as if they were confused as to why she was upset with them. Behind her, Leon was holding back a stunned Gaius and George, who were in turn too old and too terrified to help their monarchs.

Gwen was so busy fighting to tear herself away from the obvious enchanted knights –_no wonder Morgana was able to make it into the castle so quietly! And George said the knights had all mysterious vanished to the dungeons!_– she didn't notice Oswin calmly following along behind them at first. When she did, her brain started working again.

"Oswin," she whispered over her shoulder, hoping it wouldn't catch the knights' notice. "Oswin, they're not after you. Try and get out and get help. Go to our allies and tell them I sent you. I know I have no right to ask this of you, and I won't blame you if you don't wish to risk it. If not just go and hide. I'm sure this isn't going to be pleasant."

But Oswin didn't leave, either to run for help or to run away.

Instead she simply said, "He won't let Morgana hurt me."

* * *

Tyus was in a conundrum. That was a word he had learned recently from his sister, and he was sure it fit this situation perfect. The master had told him to find his sister. He was perfectly fine with that. He would much rather be with his sister than the mad Emrys and the scary lady.

But the master also told him that if he saw men with swords to hide. Even if they were magic sword men, which apparently meant they weren't going to hurt him unless the scary lady told them to.

These looked like they were magic sword men, so he was supposed to hide.

But they also had his sister with him. So was he supposed to come out?

Tyus decided to go for the safe route. He hid behind a statue, peeking out as the group walked by. They had two other people with them who didn't have swords, a man who looked like he was sick and a lady who looked like his sister did when she got into a fight with the master. He wondered if these were the king and queen. They didn't look like a king and queen to him. His sister looked much more queenly than the angry lady.

As they passed, Tyus reached out a hand and grabbed for his sister's dress. She gave a squeak as the material pulled, whirling around to see what it had caught on.

"Tyus! What are you doing here?" She sounded scared, like how the master sounded whenever he kept giving him orders to go hide. They probably thought he didn't notice it, but he did.

"The master told me to come find you. He said you have to meet him and the scary la– the lady in…" He blushed as he trailed. Other than _find Oswin_ and _hide from swords_, he didn't actually remember that much of his instructions. "He wanted you to find him."

Oswin laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. I'm going there now. But why are you _here_? In Camelot?"

"I'm taking care of Emrys again. The master told me to."

Oswin looked as angry as the other lady now. Her grip on his shoulder tightened, and she ground her teeth in the way that Mother had forever been telling her was going to make them fall out if she keep doing it –or so Oswin told him. "I'm going to kill him," she muttered. "I'll cut him up and feed his entrails to the dogs." She pulled him out from behind the statue and took his hand, pulling him on after the magic sword men group. "Come on, then."

He still thought she looked more queenly than the angry lady.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: What's this? I'm updating _early?_ I must be really sick, huh? Don't worry, I'll still be doing another one tomorrow, too.  
**

**I am currently having a lover's quarrel with my e-mail. As in, I'm not getting any. I checked my spam box and found about two dozen e-mails from other sources that shouldn't have been there, but none from FF. Which I know I should have, since at the very least I should have gotten one about posting a chapter, let alone reviews and follows and such (which are all wonderful and you people are amazing, thank you!). So if you've sent me a PM, I had no idea until now because I don't ever check unless I get the e-mail. Hopefully it will be fixed soon.**

**But I keep checking manually to read your reviews, so keep them coming with your ideas and comments and questions! Sometimes they help me remember details I'd even forgotten myself!**

**TN Sarah: For incomplete fics, I'd definitely recommend ****_Divided We Fall_**** and ****_The Welshire Quest_****. Complete: ****_Disillusionment_**** (which will disintegrate your heart) and ****_A Fresh Perspective_**** (which is actually a happy one!)**

**SwimmerGirl0726: Your wish is my command. Though I swear, I had this written before you did your review. xD  
**

**(And one last thing: I love Gwen, I really do, please don't hurt me for the one teensy part at the end of this.)**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

If this was Morgana's latest idea of physical torture to soften him up before she killed him, Arthur was willing to admit –to himself at least, maybe not to her precisely –that it was working. He wasn't even ashamed about it. The jostling of his body as Percival carted him through the corridors, his abdomen rising and slamming back down on the knight's shoulder, was enough to break anyone. He dry-heaved three more times before he was dumped on the floor of the throne room, his tired muscles cramping and spasming as they tried to expel what was no longer there.

The instant he was put down, Guinevere was at his side, having been released as well. He collapsed on her, much as his pride wanted him to remain as upright as possible, his body overruled any such inclinations. Guinevere did her best to prop him up, knowing him as she did, leaning him against her so that he could look forward and face his half-sister's gloating threats.

Honestly, he would much rather take a nap.

There were a few others with her, from whatever band of hellions she had picked up while in Gedref, he supposed. He guessed the rest were off terrorizing his people.

If they even needed to be terrorized. His own knights, now that they had apparently accomplished their task, stood aimlessly about, looking bemused. None of them looked upon the woman on the throne with anything even nearing suspicion, let alone outrage. But there was no loyalty either, which gave him heart. They may have been doing Morgana's bidding, but they at least did not seem to be doing so willingly.

Which was nice. There was only so much betrayal a person could take.

Before Morgana could open her mouth to sneer at him as she was sure to start doing any second now, someone else stormed into the room, dragging a little boy along beside them. Arthur gaped as the physician assistant Oswin marched straight up to one of Morgana's men and slapped him hard across the face, the force of the impact ringing throughout the cavernous room. She was either the bravest girl he'd ever met or the craziest one.

"How could you bring him here? Are you mad? He's just a child! I trusted you to keep him safe, Mordred. But now I hear that not only did you bring him into the middle of a warzone, but you left him in charge of the exact same person who thoughtlessly attacked him before? You promised me that just because you bought him didn't mean you would treat him like a slave. I swear, if he gets so much as a scratch from this, I'm holding you _personally _responsible."

The young man she berated didn't try to defend himself, merely hanging his head in shame. It seemed he had expected nothing less than this exact reaction. The more Arthur stared at him, the more confused he was. The young man –and he could see he really was a _young_ man –looked oddly familiar, but he just couldn't place him, not until Oswin's words clicked a memory in his brain.

_Mordred_.

The little druid boy he had helped escape his father's wrath all those years ago. Morgana had hid the boy first, but she had been caught attempting to sneak him out of the city. So Arthur had taken over, breaking him out of the dungeons with the help of Merlin and returning him to his people. The boy's fate since then hadn't even crossed his mind in ages.

Arthur had to admit, he was only slightly surprised that Morgana had allied with him. How they had found each other again, he had no idea, but Morgana had been enamoured of the boy, willing to risk the death sentence or at least imprisonment it would mean if she were caught. Arthur had always known he had some wiggle-room with the laws, since his father would never _actually_ kill him, but Morgana had forever been pushing her limits.

When Mordred did respond, he spoke not to Oswin, but to the boy, mumbling, "I thought I told you to hide once you found her."

"He will stay right here with me, thank you, since I obviously cannot trust you enough to let him out of my sight." Oswin gripped the boy's hand tighter, pulling him closer.

Morgana watched the scene with a smirk. "Are you quite done having your little domestic?" Oswin just sniffed, glaring accusingly at the sorceress as if to say she knew exactly who was to blame for Mordred's lapse of judgement. Morgana didn't seem at all bothered by the reaction, finally turning back to deal with the actual situation at hand.

"Ah, thank you, Sir Elyan. You know, when I told you to take a few of your friends, I wasn't expecting you to be so _literal_. I really must take the time at some point to experiment with this a bit, don't you think? Now, you may go and guard the doors from the outside. I haven't invited company, but you never know when unexpected guests may arrive, and I'd hate for there to be no one to greet them. And by greet them I mean kill them, in case that was too subtle for you. The other two can stay here with me, just in case our dear king decides to make a run for it."

She waited a bit for Elyan to close the door behind him, her glittering eyes never leaving Arthur. "What's that, brother dear? You can't run? Are you ill? Here, let me help you with that." Morgana reached out a hand towards Oswin, who gave her a bottle of something. She waltzed over to Arthur and grip his chin in her hands, raising the bottle to his mouth. Arthur clamped his lips shut even as his stomach threatened to rebel again. Morgana rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, I _am _getting _tired_ of that response." With a flash of gold his jaw popped open no matter how hard he fought, the potion dumped down his throat.

Morgana returned to her seat on the throne and smiled cloyingly. "Feeling better?"

Oddly enough… yes. The roil of his stomach calmed, his tense muscles relaxed, even his fever seemed to be reducing. Arthur tested out this new feeling, bracing himself on his wife, who stared at him worryingly, as if afraid he was just going to keel over dead now, and pushing himself up so he was kneeling. When nothing happened that indicated his body was going to punish him for the movement, he made to stand.

"Ah, ah. None of that now. Percival, if you would help him to maintain his current position?"

Then Arthur found one of Percival's large hands pressing down on his shoulder. If it had been anyone else, it would have been a ridiculous idea to think that one hand could hold the king in place if he was determined to stand. But this was Percival, and Percival was twice as strong as Arthur was any day. Instead Arthur settled for raising his chin high and staring his half-sister down across the room.

"There, now isn't that better? I'm so sorry, but we couldn't risk you skipping out on us again. After all, I've missed you so much," she simpered. "Mordred can tell you how I've been pining. If you weren't my brother, I think he may have gotten jealous." She turned to the young man in question. "Don't worry, Mordred. You know you never have to fear Arthur taking your place in my heart."

Mordred nodded, though Arthur thought he looked a bit uncomfortable. _Probably still embarrassed about being yelled at earlier._ "Yes, my lady."

"Mordred has been so wonderful to me. I had been looking for something for the past few years, you see, and he found it for me. He then even offered me the services of his two little friends here," her eyes flicked over to Oswin and the child, who still stood on the other side of Mordred. "I'm sure you've gotten to know Oswin well these past couple of days. Quite the talented little physician, isn't she? And of course the little one, her brother." Morgana's smirk grew challengingly. "Be careful, dear. I myself have some experience with brothers. That hand will only be holding yours for as long as it takes to bring the knife up to your back."

Oswin's eyes narrowed, and the boy looked like he wanted to cry. She reached down and settled her brother on her hip, matching Morgana's challenge with one of her own.

"Oh, how remiss of me. Arthur, I'm so sorry. Mordred told me about your _terrible loss_."

Arthur stiffened, and besides him he felt Guinevere tense up as well as she stole glances at him. No, Morgana could not possibly know what he did. She only knew Merlin was dead. Arthur had no idea how Mordred knew, but that could be all the information either of them had found out. So other than his guilt about Merlin dying, there was nothing about that situation they could use against him.

"I know how close you two were. It must have scarred you deeply. But then, you did _leave him there_."

Arthur felt his breath catch. Guinevere was opening staring at him now, and he thought he'd heard a tiny gasp escape her mouth. He didn't dare turn to see what expression she wore. _No. That's not what happened. It isn't._

"Honestly, I don't know how you can even look at yourself." Her expression changed to a wolfish grin, and it was clear she was loading the arrow to bring down her prey. "But perhaps, you learned something that day? Something that made it easier to turn your back on him so easily?"

Arthur paled. _She knows. How can she know?_

"Luckily, there are others out there who don't react so cruelly. There are those who don't abandon their friends so easily. Kind, compassionate souls who understand how harsh the world can be and take pity on your worthless castoffs." She nodded to Mordred, who was starting to look a little green himself. The young man walked to one of the side doors and disappeared for a moment.

"Arthur… what is she talking about?" Guinevere whispered, her voice filled with horror as the realizations of just what could have caused her husband's silence on the matter since his return filled her mind. "It's not… you didn't…"

But Arthur couldn't answer, because that was exactly obviously who Morgana was talking about. That last part, however, that didn't make sense. He could only guess she meant Mordred there, since he'd then gone to do something. He was a druid; it stood to reason he might be a sorcerer, too, since most were. But Arthur hadn't cast him off nor abandoned him. He hadn't even hardly _known_ about him.

"I told you I'd been looking for something, brother. Really, I suppose I have you to thank for its discovery as well. I won't, though. We'd hate to make Mordred jealous, remember?"

Mordred returned, now grasping the arm of another person. Oswin's frown deepened as they passed, and she squeezed her brother tighter. The two stopped beside Morgana again. Morgana smiled and took the new person's hand in her own. Mordred released his grip like the arm was suddenly made of fire.

All this happened, but Arthur didn't actually see any of it. He was too busy staring at the ghost that had just entered the room. This was all a dream –or rather, a nightmare. Perhaps some kind of hallucination induced by his stomach ailment. It had to be, because he could not be here, in this room, seeing this person, looking that _alive_. Soon he was going to wake up or get better, and it would be confirmed that this had never happened.

Because Merlin was dead. He was.

* * *

Mordred was slightly wishing he hadn't told Morgana the circumstances around Emrys's capture. She was delighting far too much in rubbing them in, which did not serve his purposes in the slightest. Although maybe it was a good thing she was making the king feel guilty about abandoning the warlock to slavers. Even Mordred had felt a surge of anger and stab of pity at hearing how they had simply left him behind.

The look on Arthur's face now was certainly everything he had hoped for. The man was in complete shock. Which was perfect. The more grateful he felt that Emrys had not, indeed, succumbed to an early grave based on his mistakes would make him more likely to do as the warlock asked of him later.

The only person he did feel bad about revealing Emrys this way to was Gwen, Morgana's former maidservant. The woman had taken care of him just as much as Morgana had when he'd been hiding and ill. She and Emrys were friends as well. It probably hurt her deeply to have learned he had been killed, and now to have such harsh truths thrown upon her.

Morgana gently tugged Merlin down so that he was sitting on the empty throne beside her. "There, that's a good boy. Now stay." Merlin's stormy face turned in her direction, though his eyes never seemed to quite make contact with hers.

Arthur didn't even realize he'd stopped breathing until Guinevere's fingers laced in with his, losing the tightness in his chest. Merlin was alive. Merlin was _alive_ and _whole _and _here._ He didn't understand how it was possible, and he didn't care. There couldn't possibly be better news in the entire five kingdoms, and if there was, Arthur didn't want to know it, because his heart would probably give out from pure bliss.

Yet Merlin didn't seem to be feeling nearly as happy about this news as he did. In fact, he'd hazard to say Merlin wasn't feeling happy at all. He had yet to even glance over at where the king and queen knelt, continuing his staring contest with the air a foot in front of Morgana. And as his half-sister commanded, he did not rise; in fact he practically collapsed in on himself the longer he stayed sat.

"Merlin and I have been catching up these past few days. As much as I missed you, dear brother, I missed my poor little Merlin even more. After all, without me around, who would he have to betray?" She ran the back of her hand lovingly down Merlin's cheek. The raven-haired man flinched, but did not move away. When Morgana removed her hand, he moved his gaze to the ground, scowling at fiercely. "Oh, but I needn't have worried, isn't that right, Merlin? I should have known you would always find someone, shouldn't I? It's in your nature.

"Did you know, Arthur, that the druids have a prophesy about you? Don't go getting a big head about it. It's just about you being king. But do you want to know my favourite part of this prophesy? It's what you're meant to do as king. They believe you're going to bring back magic to the kingdom, Arthur. Can you believe it? The king of Camelot, son of Uther Pendragon, _accepting magic_." If it was possible, her grin had grown even more malicious. "But he won't be alone, oh no. He'll have his own personal _sorcerer_ to help him. A sorcerer by the name of Emrys."

Arthur was going to be sick again, and he was fairly certain it wasn't simply a leftover effect from the poison. Merlin still wasn't looking at him, wasn't looking at anyone. In fact, other than when Morgana touched him he didn't seem to have any reaction to her little story at all.

"You might imagine that I would be interested in finding anyone who would be fool enough to help you. So when Mordred told me he had the famed Emrys locked away in his home, left to die by the very person it has been his life's purpose to protect… Just think how surprise I was to discovered it was none other than our own little Merlin."

Guinevere gasped again. Gwaine and Percival just raised their eyebrows as though they'd heard an interesting bit of trivia. So now everyone knew. Everyone knew that Merlin had been lying to Arthur since they had met and had never once trusted him enough to tell him the truth.

At least he could take a little solace in the fact that none of the others had known either. Arthur wondered if he hadn't found out if Gaius would have taken it to his grave with no one the wiser.

That certainly seemed to have been Merlin's plan. And he nearly succeeded.

Morgana frowned slightly, her manic excitement dampened. Apparently something in her epic reveal had gone wrong. She stole a glance at the still practically comatose Merlin. Then she looked back to Arthur, and her eyes narrowed. "You _knew_," she hissed.

Arthur nodded dumbly. He swallowed hard and replied, "I– I found out. About the magic. Not the whole… druid _thing_…" He watched Merlin while he said it, expecting the other man's head to finally come up and stare at him, to try to gauge his reaction, to beg for forgiveness or shutter with shame. But still he remained unmoved.

"What have you done to him?" There was something wrong. He wasn't acting like the knights, who at least _moved_ and _spoke _and _acknowledged_, if not in the way he was accustomed to. Merlin wasn't doing _anything_. Other than his glare and that one small flinch, he had yet to give any indication that he wasn't indeed the ghost Arthur had first thought him.

"He's fine. He's just doing as he's told. Really, Arthur, just because you could never manage to get your servant to obey doesn't mean the rest of us are completely hopeless."

_"__**Your**__ buyers would prefer to see you unharmed, whereas __**his**__ would prefer to see him __**manageable**__."_

Merlin had apparently become manageable.

"You'll get a chance to speak to him, don't worry. It's why we're here, after all. For now, let's simply let him in on the conversation, shall we?" She looked over at Mordred and tapped her ear. After a quick moment Mordred nodded. Morgana squeezed the hand she still held and leaned in close to the young man's ear. Arthur barely caught her simpering whisper. "Merlin, there are some friends here to see you."

_Now_ Merlin's head shot up. His eyes flickered around the room, searching frantically. His gaze passed over every occupant, ignoring them all, before turning back to the space in front of Morgana, his glare murderous. That finally clued Arthur in. Merlin _wasn't_ enchanted like the knights; he simply couldn't see them. He was blind. And it seemed that somehow until now he'd been deaf as well. Arthur could only pray that the lack of sight was just as temporary.

"Merlin." He didn't yell it. He didn't have to. His friend's head snapped forward at the sound of his voice, eyes widening from a glare to panic. He settled on a point in the back of the room, not even close to where Arthur actually was, but at least he knew the king was here now, and he was not alone with only Morgana beside him.

"Touching as this is," Morgana snapped –she seemed rather irritated now that her big moment had been spoiled – "let's get down to business, shall we? At dawn you are going to make an announcement, your highness. An announcement stating that you revoke your right to the throne in favour of me, the rightful heir."

"And why would I want to do that?"

Morgana smiled again, her happiness returned. "That question is one I will leave for Merlin to answer for you later. I hear he's looking forward to it." Merlin shot more daggers in her direction. "But regardless, you will do it, and then you will sign all of the documents to make it legal and binding. I hear Geoffrey has even agreed to oversee the ceremony to ensure there is nothing anyone might try and slip around. When it is all said and done and ironclad, then you will have two choices, Arthur: you may take your whore and your pathetic little magician and leave, never to return, _or_…

"I can simply kill you all, and we will have done with it. It's your choice."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry, I fell asleep before I could get this posted last night. As I've mentioned before, my sleep schedule is not the best (plus, it's just very exhausting, being me). Another long chapter. I don't even know how it got this long. But it's got lots of fun stuff in it. And the next chapter is even more awesome, so be excited for that tomorrow.**

**By the way, just a fun fact, I looked it up, and 1 pace is equal to 1.48 metres (I think it's a little less than 5 feet for the Americans, not sure).**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Arthur was carried down to the dungeons by Percival, Gwen thrown in the cell beside him. They had passed Gaius and George in another cell, Leon giggling to the Gwaine and Percival as they left about how he had "taken _initiative_," as if it were the most marvellous concept in the world.

"Sire, are you alright?" Gaius called down through the dungeon corridors.

"We're fine. She didn't do anything to us." He couldn't honestly say she hadn't hurt them.

Arthur slid down the stone wall and leaned his head back against it, closing his eyes exhausted. He couldn't even begin to process what had just happened. _Morgana's taken over. Merlin's alive. She says I have a choice to leave or die. Merlin's __**alive**_**.**

He was shaken from his thoughts by his wife, who he'd nearly forgotten was there. "Is it true?" He opened his eyes and looked at her questioningly, though he had a sinking suspicion he knew exactly what she was asking from her already accusing tone. "Is what Morgana said true? Did you abandon Merlin with the slave traders because you found out he was a sorcerer?"

"No, please, Guinevere–"

"Oh my…" she raised a hand to cover her mouth. "You did. That's why you didn't want to talk about it, not because he was dead, but because you didn't want anyone to know what you did! How could you, Arthur? He's your friend. And how could you lie to me about that? to everyone? Do you even realize how awful it's been thinking he was… that Merlin was…"

Arthur sidled over to her and took her hands, squeezing them tight when she tried to pull away. "I did _not_ abandon him. I swear, I didn't. I only found out the possibility _after_ they had already taken him from me and then told me they killed him. I really _did_ believe he was dead. _I_ _saw his body_. Gaius… Gaius confirmed it all for me when I came back. He always knew."

Now that the shock of seeing him again –and _alive–_ had worn off, Arthur was starting to remember why he hadn't wanted to talk about this in the first place. Because Merlin had lied to him, had been lying to him for over nine years. He had betrayed him by practicing magic in the first place, then not even trusted him enough to ever tell him the truth. Especially since, if Gaius was to be believe, it wasn't something Merlin could control. It would be like Arthur punishing him for having black hair.

"You didn't abandon him?"

The two royals were startled by the appearance of the new voice. Oswin stepped up to the bars, her little brother trailing close behind. She looked upon the king seriously, as if she honestly expected an answer to her question. Arthur scowled at her for a moment, but his anger towards the false physician's assistant for her treachery wasn't nearly as strong as he'd ever felt in the past. He barely knew the girl, after all. Her betrayal didn't hold a candle compared to the ones committed against him by various members of his own _family._

"No, I didn't," Arthur repeated forcefully, more for the benefit of convincing Guinevere than Oswin. He may not despise her for what she had done, but that didn't mean he actually care what her opinion of his actions was. "They took him away and didn't bring him back, and then they told me he was dead and brought me to Camelot. There was no abandoning." Except after, when he completely wrote Merlin off and refused to even allow the others the courtesy of a funeral because of his own bruised ego. That may have cross the line into abandonment territory.

But it's not like Merlin hadn't _deserved_ it.

"So he did lie." Oswin's face took on that same stormy expression it had held up in the throne room.

"Who?" Guinevere asked, while Arthur just grumbled to himself, _Yes, Merlin lied, what'd you care?_

"Mordred," she answered, to both of their surprises. "He told me Emrys was alone. That you had abandoned him to his fate. I… I wasn't too happy with you about that."

"I never would have guessed that from your nice little physician act," Arthur grumbled. "You're very good, you know. You should join a travelling troupe.

Oswin held her head high. "I did what I had to do as my part in fulfilling the prophecy. And you'll recall that I always treated you as a physician should. I take my duty seriously. For all that you've done to my people, I could have done much worse. I probably should have. I didn't have to provide the antidote tonight. I could have claimed to have dropped the bottle, and it shattered on the ground. I could have said that Gaius found it and took it away from me. I could have simply refused to hand it over. But I didn't. And _I_ am the reason Emrys is still alive after _you_ would have killed him for what he was."

Arthur ignored the barb. _I wouldn't have killed Merlin. I wouldn't have. He was the one who was never willing to risk that._ "Your people. So you're a sorcerer, too? Camelot's just teeming with them right now, isn't it?"

"There is nothing _wrong_ with having magic! You have ascribed it with more power over an individual than it actually wields. I am not now, nor have I ever been evil. Emrys, I believe, is slightly mad, but from what I have heard of him, evil has never come up, not even amoungst his enemies, of which he has many, most of which are also _your_ enemies, because they're angry he stopped them from killing you. And Mordred's an idealistic idiot who's too in love with the past to focus on the future, but he's not evil either."

"And Morgana?" Arthur couldn't wait to hear the impassioned defence of his half-sister.

"The jury's still out on her," Oswin rolled her eyes, disdain clear on her face. "But if she is, it has nothing to do with her magic. Or at least, you had better hope that's the case." She didn't elaborate on that point.

She looked towards her brother, who had sunk to the floor by the wall and nodded off. "Tyus asked me once if we were bad for having magic. He was always worried about being bad when he was younger, because our parents were killed just after he was born for suspicion of sorcery or just because they were druids or maybe they outwardly opposed the crown. I don't know; I was hardly much older than he is now. I asked him if he'd ever asked for his gift. Maybe he asked for it for his birthday? But, of course, he hadn't. Then I asked him if he asked to have hands. Can you imagine, having to ask to have hands? Because magic is like hands, sire. You either have them or by some spurt of randomness you don't. With them I can either hurt" –her finger flitted towards her arm and in one quick motion she used her nail to scratch a cut in her skin- "or heal." She smoothed the same finger over the cut and suddenly it was gone. "It's all just potential. But would you kill me for what my hands might do?"

Arthur hung his head. "It's not that simple."

"And why not? Why can't it be? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love it if it weren't, if I hadn't had to spend my entire life on the run because some king was too stupid to realize magic doesn't equal bad, but obviously we can't always get what we want."

An echoing in the distance indicated someone was coming.

"Now, when Emrys comes down here, you had better listen to what he has to say, because I've spent my entire life believing you deserved nothing more than to die so that I could finally be free. So far you've done nothing to make me think otherwise."

That's right, Merlin was supposed to talk to him. Apparently he held the secret of why Arthur would willingly give over his crown to Morgana. Merlin had always been good at convincing him to do the impossible, but this was asking a bit much. Of course, he would have said that about believing a sorcerer was good, and he'd now heard two –he had to admit, at least to himself– convincing arguments towards that end.

"You have a visitor, your highness."

Mordred came into view, leading Merlin once again by the arm. They stopped in front of the cell door, and Mordred gave Merlin a small push on the top of his shoulder, causing his legs to crumple underneath him. Merlin scowled straight ahead, his eyesight clearly not returned.

"Merlin?" Guinevere went to the bars and reached through to take his hand. The instant she touched him, however, he jerked away, nearly falling backwards with the force of his reaction. Guinevere retracted her hand quickly, confused and hurt.

"It's not your fault. He probably thinks you're Morgana," Mordred explained. He paused, then said, "You can try again now."

Indeed, Merlin himself was now reaching his own hand forward, grasping at the air. Guinevere caught hold of his fingers and he held on tight, clawing his way up her arm to try to wrap her in a hug until he felt the bars in the way between them. Merlin glared at them like he planned to melt them with his eyes. He returned to holding her hand, though he held it for dear life. The overall effect was so pathetically sad that no matter what Arthur thought about him at the moment, all he could feel was pity.

"Sorry," Merlin mouthed.

The pity left and was replaced with anger that Merlin should think that, at least in this case, he had anything to feel sorry for. "How did you do that?" Arthur demanded.

"I just told him it was only Gwen and that Morgana wasn't here. Emrys and I don't need words to communicate."

Oswin's brow knit at the sight of the servant on the floor. "Did you seriously drag him all the way here like that? He could have fallen down the stairs and broken his neck! And why is he walking like that? It's been long enough the ride here shouldn't have undone the healing I put on him." Mordred flamed red and refused to answer, his eyes flicking to the imprisoned king and queen. "_Mordred? _What did you let her do?"

"He's fine. He just fell and re-broke his rib, that's all. It was an accident. And it was my fault, not hers. You're the one who just said he could break his neck like this."

"I can't leave you alone for a second, can I?" Oswin fumed, throwing up her hands in the air in defeat. Tyus stirred across the room from her shout. Purposefully she lowered it and hissed, "You do realize he needs to be _alive _for this to work. No, I don't care what_ she_ says. He's Emrys, Mordred. You know better."

Arthur and Guinevere just watched the argument unfold. It appeared Oswin had been honest when she said she took her duty as a healer seriously. Arthur had gathered that rank-wise, being Morgana's beloved pet put Mordred above this girl, but that seemed of no bother to her.

Oswin knelt down and put a hand on Merlin's side. The servant flinched, but didn't try to retreat this time. "**Ge hailige."**

Merlin's posture straightened a bit, and his muscles relaxed slightly, but if that had been a healing Arthur had witnessed, Merlin didn't seem too happy about it. In fact, he frowned in the direction of the hand. Oswin frowned as well. Perhaps the spell hadn't worked as it was supposed to?

"Let them talk, Mordred," she demanded flatly, rising to her feet. "And while they do that, you and I are going to have a discussion over here about the ethical treatment of human beings."

Mordred followed her to the other side of the corridor like he was going to his execution. Merlin didn't give any indication that Arthur had a feeling that Mordred didn't dare disobey a direct order from the physician now.

Guinevere obviously thought so too. "Merlin? Merlin, can you hear us?" Merlin nodded in her direction, doing his best to locate Guinevere by her voice. It was clear he couldn't see still. Probably to stop him from running away. At least Arthur hoped so. He really hoped it wasn't permanent. "Can you speak?" Another nod. "Merlin, what happened?"

But whether he could speak or not was a null point, because it seemed Merlin wasn't talking. His eyes flicked to the side where Oswin had stood, and his hand twitched, as though he wanted to stretch it out, but was afraid to. Instead he flicked back to Guinevere and mouthed "Are they gone?"

"Yes, Merlin, they're gone. Well, they're still here, but they aren't paying us any attention." That wasn't entirely true. Oswin kept glancing over at them while she lectured Mordred in a low hiss.

"Mordred bought me," Merlin finally spoke out loud. His voice was rough from lack of use, and not helped by the fact he was trying to speak as quietly as possible. Even knowing they weren't being eavesdropped on, he still seemed extremely reluctant to be talking. "Traded me for another one of those branding rods, since I threw theirs away. Then he told Morgana he had me, and we came here, and here we are."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Thank you for that scintillating report, _Mer_lin. Really, I don't know how we would have ever figured any of that out without you. I believe what Guinevere _meant_ was why are staring at a stone wall instead of her face?"

In response Merlin rolled up the sleeve of his filthy shirt. There was the brand the slavers had given him, along with several other long burns. It was much less red and raw looking than before when it was infected, though the skin still puckered around the edges. The design of the enchantment was more noticeable now, the circle clearly spiralling and twisting in a deliberate fashion. "He designed it, I guess. It binds me to him. He can do what he wants. That includes this." He waved a hand in front of his face. "I don't really see the point though. I know where I am now, after all."

He sounded so despondent Arthur didn't know what to do. This was clearly not the time to bring up magic and how he knew the other thing that mark did was prevent the sorcerer from using it. He was supposed to be mad at Merlin. Mad at him for lying to him and not trusting him. But it was very difficult to keep the desire to be mad at someone when you were getting a second chance to put things right. It would be different this time. Merlin would have absolutely no doubts he could trust him this time.

There would be no more lies.

"You're in the dungeons," Arthur began, catching on that one last sentence and running with it. "Guinevere and I are in a cell -the last one on the row, the biggest one on the left. You're just outside it; you aren't locked up. Mordred and Oswin and the boy are about five or six paces away. They're talking about something. I think Oswin was going to yell at Mordred some more about your rib or bring her brother or some other grievance I won't pretend to know about. It seems like she has many." That actually drew a tiny smile from the servant. "They left us here because you apparently have something important to tell us? Something about Morgana and why I should give her the throne?"

The smile vanished and Merlin's face darkened again. He shook his head vehemently, stopped, then put the hand that wasn't still clutching Guinevere's on the ground to steady himself as he swayed. "I don't. I already told them: _I won't do it._" He raised his voice for the declaration, and though it cracked a bit, it did what it was apparently supposed to and caught the attention of the two druids, who paused their conversation to glare openly at him. Merlin withdrew his hand from the queen's and shuffled himself backwards. "You've had to fight to keep your throne this long, Arthur. What's one more time?"

Mordred muttered something the small group couldn't quite catch, but Oswin certainly did.

"_He did __**what**__?_" she shrieked, startling her little brother completely out of his sleep. She ignored him. Mordred mumbled something else, and Arthur became concerned that Oswin was going to start to suffer from the bleeding in the brain Gaius had forever warned his father about if he didn't control his temper and stress.

Oswin stalked over to three at the cell door and grabbed Merlin by the wrist, her gentle touch in stark contrast to the pure red anger in her eyes. Then she took him by the arm and helped him to his feet again, holding him in place as he swayed dangerously again for a moment. "Come along, Emrys. Don't worry, we won't be going far. I just need you to lie down for a moment while I get some things." She turned back to Mordred as she led Merlin into the cell directly opposite the king and queen. "_You_ can go back to your fruitless task. If it stands even a chance of succeeding any time in even the distant future, you'll need all the face time you can get."

Mordred fled, either from her wrath or because her orders made urgent sense, it wasn't clear.

The druid girl helped Merlin lay down on the cell cot. "Stay. I know I can't make you like Mordred and Morgana, but I hope you'll listen to me anyway. Tyus?" The now awake little boy came running in, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "I need you to watch him for me while I go get some things. Yes, I know what happened last time, but he promises to be good, don't you, Emrys?" Merlin must have nodded, because the boy stayed, and she came out, muttering under her breath as she left the dungeons.

Arthur waited for a few moments to make certain they were truly alone before he demanded , "Does someone want to explain what just happened?" Worry for his friend –how did they make it back to that point so quickly again?– was increasing rapidly at the sight of him unmoving on the cot. "And by someone, Merlin, I'm hoping it will be you, since everyone else just walked out in a tizzy over you."

It wasn't Merlin who replied, however, but the boy. "I think Oswin just found out he wasn't eating. That's how the scary lady reacted, too."

Not eating? Arthur was pretty sure he was seeing red now as well. Oswin had just yelled at Mordred that the point was for Merlin to be alive. How were they expecting that to happen if they didn't feed him?

"Oswin got mad when he wouldn't drink the tonics she made him either. Does he usually do that? Not take his medicine? The master had to make him. But he said it was okay because they would make Emrys feel better. I always thought food made you feel better, too. Do you not need to eat because you're Emrys? Oswin never told me that story, and she's told me lots of stories about the King and his greatest protector."

Arthur shook his head to clear it, trying to sort out the child's babbling. Was the boy trying to say that Merlin had done this to himself? On purpose? "Merlin… is that true? Were you… starving yourself?"

Merlin didn't answer, but that was all the answer Arthur needed. Oswin had said she couldn't "make him," so it was a near certainty Merlin could both listen and speak to him right now. That he was choosing not to said the current discussion was not one he could defend himself on.

"What on earth were you thinking, Merlin? Were you trying to get yourself killed?" The fact that Arthur had believed he already _was_ dead until an hour or so ago flashed through his mind. And now he found out that Merlin had tried to throw away their second chance to make things right before either of them could seize it? Well, at least his old trusty anger was back now. He could completely understand how Oswin felt.

"He did drink the water I gave him when I asked," Tyus stated proudly. "The master put me in charge of him and told me to make him drink it so he wouldn't die. Just the water, though. I tried to share my bread crusts, because I don't really like those, but he wouldn't take him. So is it true? Does Emrys really not _need_ to eat food?"

"No, he needs to eat just like every other idiot on the planet. It's just that he never learned to use his brain, unlike everyone else. Honestly, why, Merlin? What could possibly make you think that was a good idea?"

"He didn't want to be used."

Oswin was back now, a medicine bag –not Gaius's –slung over her shoulder. Trailing behind her was Gaius himself, who brushed past her when they reached the cell and sat beside Merlin, helping his ward sit up and squeezing him tightly, whispering in his ear as tears fell down his cheeks. Oswin let them have their moment while she organized her things.

"What do you mean he didn't want to be used? Used for what?"

"This." Oswin waved her hand around aimlessly. "I told him it was pointless to argue; he had to do it. It's his destiny, after all, part of the prophecy. But he didn't want to listen. I told Mordred it wouldn't work. I was all for just coming and killing you –like I said before, that poison would have done it if I just left you for another few hours. But Mordred has his grand ideas about the world and won't be dissuaded from them.

"Emrys is supposed to be convincing you to hand over your crown and run. Then in Mordred's mind you'll keep doing this until he can convince Morgana her life can still be sunshine and rainbows again if you only can learn to accept each other once more. In the real world, however, what will happen is Morgana will quickly get tired of pandering to Mordred's fantasies and will send someone out to hunt you down and kill you like she always knew she should have done in the first place. But since he's too stubborn to know what's good for him, he's been doing anything he can to take himself out of the equation."

Arthur felt sick at her words. Here he had spent all this time after he thought Merlin was dead raging about how he'd been tricked and kept in the dark. He had refused to talk about him, refused to remember him, practically refused to let others mourn him. And all the while Merlin was doing what, according to Gaius and what Arthur had seen him do time enough in the past to believe was true, he had always done. He'd been willing to try to slowly kill himself so that Morgana couldn't use him against Arthur. He was protecting him once again, even though if he'd succeeded, no one would have ever known of his sacrifice.

But Arthur didn't want him to do that. It was one thing when his knights fought in his name and said they were unafraid of dying in his honour. That was what knights _did_. But Merlin, Merlin's job description included cleaning his armour and sharpening his sword so that _Arthur_ could be the one to go out and die in the name of the people of Camelot. It wasn't supposed to happen the other way around. And especially not when it was his best friend, without whom he clearly fell apart.

Oswin opened a jar and murmured something will looking into it. Then she pulled out a spoon from her bag and sat down on the side of Merlin not taken up by Gaius. "Now, you're going to eat this, Emrys, or I'll know why. Clearly your plan failed, so there's no point now in continuing it. It's just broth, nothing you should have to fight too hard to keep down. I even put an extra charm on it to help ensure that, just in case."

Merlin looked completely ready to protest anyway, his chin set and arms crossed stubbornly, when Gaius forestalled any such rebellion by putting on his physician voice –or since it was Merlin, possibly it was his fatherly voice– and threatening, "Merlin, you _will_ eat it, or I will have you cleaning out the leech tank every day for a month."

The servant's resolve crumpled then, and he opened his mouth to allow the liquid to be ladled in, swallowing with difficulty. Charm or no, his face turned even paler than it already was, and he leaned against Gaius with a groan. Arthur knew how he felt; the memory of his earlier "adventure" was still fresh in his mind.

He didn't understand this druid girl. She was kind to Merlin even as she spoke nonchalantly of her belief that Arthur should be dead, and she didn't much care how. She seemed to be at odds with Morgana and yelled at Mordred for, well, _everything_, yet she entrusted Mordred with the care of her brother and accepted Morgana's version of events as the more logical one. It created such a candidly honest effect that Arthur couldn't help but almost _like_ her, even as she plotted his death.

"It wasn't an accident that Mordred found you and Emrys, you know," Oswin explained unprompted as she continued to feed Merlin. Arthur had a feeling it was to distract him from the roil in his belly as it fought to keep the broth down. "He planned for the slavers to catch you. Every couple of nights, he sent a few of the men from the household into town to the inn and tavern where Gareth and his men stay. He kept buying rounds, getting them all drunk enough they would remember his story, but not quite who told them. Mordred was watching them the whole time to make sure nothing bad happened. He had them whisper of a grand plan about kidnapping the king for ransom, how it would earn them double what they made on slaves in a month. Mordred knew Emrys would be with you and that they would rather sell him than ransom him, so he knew that when they caught you Merlin would be there for him to buy. Of all the slavers in Gedref, Gareth is the only one stupid enough to even attempt it, but he's also the only one brazen enough to pull it off. Not that we needed him to, not entirely. We knew Emrys would try to keep you from being taken at his own expense, so even if you had got away, as Mordred told me you did, we'd still end up with him, which is what we needed."

"Why couldn't Mordred just come himself?" Guinevere, who had been silent up until this point, chimed in. "Wouldn't that have been easier?"

Oswin just shook her head. "Then he would have had to overpower Emrys all by himself. Mordred has much more skill at practical magic than I do –all I can do really is heal –but even he couldn't take you on." She nudged Merlin to let him know she was talking about him, though he had probably already guessed it from the way he had gone from pale to blushing scarlet. "That's why you've got the brand. Most of the magical community may worship you, Emrys, but that doesn't mean they aren't terrified of you at the same time."

Terrified of _Merlin_? Arthur nearly snorted at the thought. Even when he first found out that Merlin might be a sorcerer, fear had never crossed his mind, despite his belief –and personal experience– that all those with magic were evil beings who would at some point attempt to kill him. If anything, he'd been terrified _for_ Merlin. Giving such a clumsy idiot a weapon like that sounded like a recipe for disaster to him.

"There, I think that's enough for now. Now, are you going to talk to him or not? I'm sure Mordred's already reported your refusal to Morgana, and really, you should just be grateful that she hasn't come down here yet and punished you herself. Mordred's probably holding her off for my sake, which is the only intelligent thing he's done in the past, well, practically, ever, but it won't last long. So either you can do your job, or we can move straight on to Morgana's plan."

Morgana's plan which involved killing them all. "You know, Merlin, I'm not really a fan of that plan, something about the whole dying bit, so if you could come up with an alternative, that would be great," Arthur drawled, hoping to draw Merlin out of his funk with the tease.

"I won't do it."

Arthur sighed. "Could I talk to him? Alone?"

"Of course. That _is_ the point of all this. Come on, Tyus, you can help me put Gaius back in his cell." Gaius gave Merlin another squeeze and stood reluctantly. Oswin leaned down and whispered something in the servant's ear, causing him to sit up straighter and glare at her. "You might want to think about that. Just a friendly piece of advice." Merlin then reached out and swept his arm around until he could grab onto her and pull her close, whispering something back. Then for the first time, she actually smiled.

Extracting herself, Oswin took Tyus by the hand and shepherded him and Gaius away.

"Merlin, just tell me what they want me to hear." Merlin drew his legs up to his chest and said nothing, but it was clear he was starting to struggle. "Just do it, you idiot. I'm not letting you die because for the first time in your life you figured out how to shut up!"

"How did you react? When you found out about the magic?"

_Alright, off-topic, but at least it's talking_. "Do you really want to know?" A nod. "I was mad at you, okay? I found out that the last nine years have all been a lie, and I was angry."

"Good. Angry's good. Are you still angry now?"

"No, Merlin, I'm not. Because I finally figured out that believing that _was_ the lie. Because you're still the same annoying, stubborn, loyal advisor you always were, no matter what little talents you kept hidden."

Merlin looked like he was going to start tearing up, and Guinevere _was_ tearing up, taking his hand in hers in silent support. He could see from her face he was forgiven for his behaviour for the past couple weeks. Now for the hard part.

"But I want you to stop. Stop being my stupidly loyal protector and start being my friend. Because if we're going to get out of here, that's who I need by my side. Not some idiot who would rather remain silent and die than fight back. That's not you, Merlin. You may try to throw your life away by jumping in front of the danger in my place, but you always jump. So pick your feet off the floor and get to it."

"I _can't_. I can't use my magic. If I try, the mark punishes me. It… _shocks_ me."

"Oh, you _can't_. I see. Well, we'll just sit here and wait for our dooms, then, because ickle _Mer_lin can't take a little discomfort."

"Arthur, stop it," Guinevere whispered so that Merlin couldn't hear her chiding. "Hasn't he been through enough?"

"No, he hasn't been through enough. Morgana said I was called the Once and Future King, Merlin. Now exactly how am I supposed to have that future part if my so-called 'greatest protector' lets himself die before it even happens? Okay, so you've saved me from this threat. But what about the next one, huh? What am I supposed to do then?"

_Come on, Merlin. __**Fight**_.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: YES I AM QUOTING CONGREVE I DON'T CARE I DO WHAT I WANT**

**Right, now that I've got that out of the way. Have another chapter, my lovelies! It's probably going to make you sad at some points. Particularly the end, when you realize you don't get the next chapter until Monday. I did try my hand at humour a bit to try to help you out, but my sense of humour is a bit... different than others... I recommend cheering yourself up by doing something happy after reading it, like hugging a puppy. If you don't have a puppy, you need to get a puppy, because seriously, who doesn't like puppies?**

**(Also, I know you're going to hate me again, but Monday's update will be up Tuesday, because I have a busy weekend and some more tests on Monday.)(Good tests, if there are such a thing in the medical world.)(They're tests that will hopefully give me a release date, so I think they're awesome.)(At least I hope they will be.)**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

"I did tell you it wasn't going to work."

Morgana sat at the table in her room, reading over some document on a scroll. Mordred had a feeling it was the abdication agreement for Arthur to sign in the morning. She was probably checking for possible loopholes. Seeing as she planned to kill her only competition and was convinced he was planning to do the same to her, he didn't see what she was so worried about. He was fairly certain that no matter what, this situation wouldn't have a legal cessation.

Mordred tried to shrug nonchalantly. "I had to try."

The truth was Emrys's continuing refusal to cooperate and Oswin's increasing frustration with Mordred himself were starting to wear on him. So far it seemed that nothing he'd done had turned out as he'd wished. Oswin had taken him aside while Emrys was supposed to be talking to the king to lecture him about his behaviour while she'd been gone and to warn him.

_"You're losing sight of why you're actually here, Mordred," she'd berated. "You've gotten so caught up in your fantasies that you can't see the forest for the trees."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"You never would have thought to bring Tyus into this on your own. She told you to. Or she hinted at it or she did something. But I know it was her idea, and you just went along with it. I know you want to try to get through to her, but I think the opposite has happened. I think she's affected you far more than you've had any effect on her, and I don't like it._

_"Don't let her do this to you. You __**are **__a good person, Mordred. I've known that from the moment you agreed to take in my brother and me. Don't let her change that."_

The problem wasn't that Mordred thought she was overreacting. It was that he was afraid she was right.

He leaned up against the post of her bed, watching her as she worked. Morgana was always so much calmer when she didn't have her brother or Emrys to think about. Almost like her old self. She had smiled as he came in, though the smile had faded wryly when she saw his defeated expression. And even though her words were dismissive, he could sense her disappointment, though he wasn't quite sure if it was for her own sake or because she was simply sorry for him that he had failed.

Mordred had been dancing around the issue of her personality change ever since they'd found each other again. He would simply lay down hints, suggest that perhaps another alternative for something would be better. _"We don't need to kill Emrys; we can use him instead." "I think the boy is frightened of you; you might try smiling a bit more." "Have you ever considered the possibility that you might be wrong in all of this?"_

Okay, so he hadn't actually said the last one, but he needed to. His time was running out. And if Emrys was going to be stubborn and do nothing to convince Arthur it was better to flee and possibly live than stay and definitely die, than it would run out much sooner than he could have ever hoped. How did one repair who knows how many years of emotional damage in a few nights?

"What are you planning on doing? After?"

Morgana flicked her eyes up in acknowledgment of the seemingly random question before returning to her reading. "I thought I would take a nap. It's been a rather long night, you know."

"That's not what I meant. After all this is over, and you're queen, and Arthur is dead, what will you do then?"

Morgana set down her scroll. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "What are you getting at, Mordred?"

"Nothing," Mordred denied quickly. "It's just, I've been wondering. You never really talk about it."

"That because it doesn't merit voicing. You don't discuss the weather unless it's unusual or you run out of conversation."

"So, nothing? You bring magic back and then… nothing?"

"Does there need to be something? Were you expecting some grand event? I'm so sorry to disappoint you." She picked up the scroll again, interest lost.

Mordred shook his head. "Of course not; you could never do that." He shifted anxiously from one foot to another for a moment, the words that he couldn't get out of his mouth itching at his feet.

Morgana ignored him for a few more seconds before heaving a longsuffering sigh, discarding her reading for good this time and rising. She crossed the room in a few long strides so that she stood toe to toe with him. "_What_, Mordred?"

Mordred leaned back a bit, disturbed by the sudden closeness. This was supposed to be a signal that he was pushing it, and he heard it loud and clear, but he didn't back down. He couldn't turn back now. "It's just… part of me has to wonder if you've been focusing on this one moment for so long that you haven't given any thought to what might come after."

Morgana blinked. She covered it up quickly, but a brief flash of surprise behind her eyes told him he had hit the nail on the head. "That's because… That's because until this is over, until Arthur and Emrys are dead and gone and I am queen, I _can't_ think about anything else. It all hinges on this, Mordred. It's the only way we can get what we want."

"Is it?" He asked, growing bolder and leaning forward again so that this time it was her choice whether to back away. She didn't. "What you want, Morgana? Because I'm not sure you even know what that is anymore."

"You don't know what you're–"

"Back when we first met, did you ever think you would become this? You once risked your life to protect a young boy you knew nothing about. Now just the sight of you sends every child you pass in the streets running for cover. You once told me how you would try to warn Arthur every time you would have a dream about him getting hurt because you couldn't stand anything happening to him. Now you rejoice every nightmare. Even when you took the crystal of Neahtid knowing it would be used to kill Uther, you balked at the idea of anyone else getting hurt. Back then you were scared. You didn't know what was happening or who to turn to. Did you ever consider then that your future would be this? Did it ever even cross your mind back then that if only Arthur were out of the way, you could be queen?

"I don't know what changed, and I won't pretend to. All I know is somewhere along the way you made the assumption that just because Arthur loved his father, he could never love you, and if you couldn't have his acceptance, than it didn't matter anymore who's you did have.

"Your only wish used to be to not be alone. You're not alone anymore, Morgana. That you still feel that way is your own choice. You've driven away everyone who ever cared for you, because you're so afraid of being denied that you won't even give them a chance to prove they won't."

Morgana didn't answer. For a long moment neither of them did anything, simply staring at each other and letting the words and emotions sink in. Mordred just prayed that something he said struck the right chord. It was all he had. _Please, Morgana. Come back to me._

When she spoke next, her whisper could barely be heard, despite the fact that she was a mere breath from his face. "Are you going to leave me, too?"

Mordred had given much thought to that. Regardless of what Oswin thought of him, he wasn't entirely a fanciful fool. He _had_ considered the possibility of failure. Even before he'd seen how far from the woman he used to know Morgana had strayed, he'd known that there was a chance she would be unwilling to listen to him. And he knew that if that was the case, he would have to choose what to do next in regards to their friendship and alliance.

"Of course I won't," he promised softly. "That's what I'm trying to say. Not everyone is going to abandon you. You just have to be willing to take that chance."

A rough mewling sound came from the antechamber, interrupting them. Aithusa limped into the main room, bumping her head against Morgana's hand in a request for attention or in an attempt to comfort. Morgana pet the little dragon's head, smiling absentmindedly even while her brow crinkled in distress.

"We were captured. They put us in a pit and left us to rot. No light, no contact, only a little food tossed down every once and again." Her eyes were on the dragon, but Mordred could see them starting to sparkle. Not a single tear fell. What Morgana felt wasn't sadness, but emptiness. This was what she'd been hiding from him. He didn't dare move for fear of her closing herself back up again. "For two years we were abandoned there. Aithusa couldn't move, and towards the end she started to get sick. So we escaped.

"She could have left me then. It was my fault she was down there. They were only using her to keep me in line. But she stayed. I never had anyone stay before, except once. Morgause stayed. She taught me everything I know. She saved my life…"

The open emptiness was gone, shuttered once more behind a veil of anger. "I wouldn't have _needed_ saving, however, if someone hadn't poisoned me. You talk about giving people chances, Mordred? Well, I gave Merlin a chance. He's the one who turned his back on me first. Not because I had magic. But because Merlin will always be loyal to Arthur first and foremost, and once he decided I was a threat to Arthur it didn't matter that I'd done nothing wrong. Until then I thought there might be chance, a small chance he might try to convince Arthur to choose me over the law. Merlin was the one who decided to give up on me first."

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned," or so the poets said. And therein lay the problem of Morgana. That Emrys had meant to turn against her Mordred had no doubt. That Arthur had followed Emrys's example with no influence from his sister's actions… that he had more trouble believing. But Morgana believed it, believed it more strongly than anything else. Her hatred towards Arthur was all tangled in her hatred of Emrys, and there was possibly no way to sort them out ever again.

Doscubel, that was the word he had tossed out to Oswin as a joke when he was telling her about his plan in the beginning, which of course she had latched on to and decided to name the whole thing after, claiming any event associated with a prophecy needed a big, prophecy sounding name to it. It was a druidic term from his childhood, most often used between two children when they were fighting. Both sides gave a little and everyone was satisfied. In this case, the Arthur and Emrys would have fulfilled their prophecy, and Morgana would be happy again. Everyone won.

But although Morgana was smiling again as she stalked from the room, all light that had been in them before was gone.

A win-win situation, it meant. Everyone was supposed to win.

Mordred had just lost.

* * *

It was so odd, living in a world of darkness. Really, the world itself had not actually changed, in fact it was a world Merlin knew better than any other now, as he knew every metre of Camelot like the back of his hand, but he felt so utterly lost and floating in space. Maybe it was the hazy state of his nutrient deprived brain. It had been so much better when Gwen was holding his hand. Her presence had at least been a sort of anchor, tethering him to the ground. Though he supposed lying on the cot hadn't been so bad either, though that experience had been over far too soon. With his eyes closed and his hearing restored, he could almost pretend he was merely falling asleep.

Not that Merlin was being allowed to do that, even if he had lain back down. No, some giant prat had to interrupt any such plans by yelling at him. And worse than that, he had to go and actually make _sense_.

Stupid Arthur giving him stupid advice because he was his stupid friend. Arthur wanted him to talk. Arthur wanted him to fight. Arthur wanted him to do anything but curl up on this cot and continue his failing strategy of non-compliance through forcibly ceasing to interact with the world.

And he wasn't the only one. Gaius, in between breathed praises that he was alive and mostly safe if not entirely sound, had whispered about research that he'd done into the brand, swearing the charm could be broken. Even Oswin, oddly enough, had stopped to murmur that he might want to consider that his current actions seemed to be spurring Arthur more towards doing exactly what they wanted for the sake of saving Merlin, who refused to save himself, than convincing him to stay and fight for his throne.

Because after all, why should Arthur fight if Merlin himself wasn't willing to anymore?

But it wasn't that he didn't _want_ to fight, not really. He was just so tired. He'd been beaten and branded and whipped and starved. Regardless that half of that had been healed and some kind of energy potion had been dumped down his throat by Mordred to keep him conscious, his body still had counted up the cost of each and was beginning to demand that Merlin pay.

_"You may throw your life away by jumping into danger, but you always jump. So pick your feet up and jump."_

Merlin wasn't quite sure jumping was in his repertoire at the moment, but if he was going to do this, he had to start somewhere. He settled for opening his eyes. It was about time he did so, and if Arthur could manage to do it, well then, so could he.

He retreated into himself and searched for the feeling of his magic. There it was, just where he had left it, gathering dust. Slowly he started to pool it together. The brand began to itch if it knew exactly what he was up to and was gearing up to stop him if he decided to try. Maybe it did. He hadn't even thought about the possibility of fighting it before. He wasn't sure he even had the strength to do so now, but Gaius did.

_"It can be broken. The failsafe is there; I know it is. You just have to __**try**__, Merlin. You can do this, my boy. I believe in you."_

Which was perhaps all fine and good for Gaius, but he didn't believe in himself so much right now. In his own way he had been fighting already, making sure Arthur was safe from the threat that was him. But he'd failed to consider what Arthur had pointed out: how was he supposed to save him next time if he wasn't around to do it? _Save yourself, you clotpole_.

Like that was even an option.

But now that he was actually considering how to free himself from the brand instead of accepting it as his fate, he realized he had no idea how to actually do that. As he saw it, he had two choices: he could force his magic harder and harder until eventually it overwhelmed the spells and broke through, or he could focus on fighting with his will until he defeated the imposition of Mordred's against him. He had no idea if one would affect the other. But if it didn't, he wasn't sure he had the strength to do both.

Very, very carefully Merlin decided to try the smallest spell he could. He'd been moving things with his mind before could even talk. If anything was going to work, it was that. Of course, he wouldn't be able to tell how well it was working for himself. He would have to rely on Arthur and Gwen to tell him. It would be embarrassing if it didn't, but the embarrassment would be nothing compared to the pain. There was a pillow on the cot. Merlin shoved his hand underneath it so he could feel if it moved. Steeling himself, he nudged a tiny tendril of magic to his bidding.

Immediately the shock coursed up his arm, causing him to yelp and his arm to jerk spasmodically.

"Merlin, are you okay?" Gwen's anxious voice floated over to him.

"I'm fine," he croaked back, shaking his arm slightly to scatter the pins and needles. "I was just… trying something. I did warn you. That's what happens if I do anything… you know." Even though Arthur said he was fine it now, the habit of not talking about his magic won through.

"Well, I suppose we could just chop your arm off…"

"_Arthur!_" There was a distinct sound that told Merlin Gwen had just slapped her husband upside the head. "Have you not been paying attention at all? Do _not_ tempt him!"

Merlin winced. He deserved that. "I promise, Gwen, there will be no arm cutting off. Besides, I don't even have so much as a dull knife; how could I even manage it without a weapon?"

"You seem to have done plenty well maiming yourself without any help from weapons, Merlin," she accused.

He deserved that, too.

"That time wasn't nearly as bad as the last time I tried it, anyway. I think the harder I try, the harder it fights back. That was more _prickly_ than anything."

"So, what? We just stab you with a hedgehog until you get used to it?"

Another smack. "_Will you stop talking about stabbing him?_"

"Actually, I think he's right. Is a sentence I will never say again." Merlin grinned as he imagined the beaming pride on Arthur's face morphing into a scowl from one sentence to the next. "If I keep doing stronger and stronger spells, I might be able to work my way up to it not affecting me as much."

"Or you could do even more damage," Gwen pointed out softly.

"Maybe. But isn't the point that if I don't do anything that we're all going to die anyway?"

"_Now_ he's getting it. If you don't mind, _Mer_lin, sometime today would be nice. Or tonight, rather, before Morgana comes to drag us out and kill us."

Gwen was probably ready to kill Arthur herself, but Merlin understood. He could hear the worry the king tried to hide in his tone. Goading him was the only way Arthur could handle the fact that he was knowingly asking Merlin to harm himself further, especially since he now knew just how far Merlin was willing to go in that regard.

Steeling himself, Merlin tried to move the pillow again. The jolt was the same, but this time he forced himself to remain quiet. He was sure they could tell it had happened again by the fact that his arm jerked unconsciously, but there was no need to stress them more by letting them know how much. It really_ was_ nothing compared to the time he'd tried to throw the slavers away from him. Merlin crushed his arm behind his back so that it couldn't move, hoping the pressure might also help. Once more he teased the magic along. And then…

"I'm hoping that was you who did that."

Merlin grinned widely. The weight of the pillow was gone, as it floated now above him. Or at least, he hoped it did. For all he knew it was barely a few breaths above his hand. He waved the hand around to find it. There, an entire metre higher!

He let go, allowing the pillow to fall back to the cot with a soft thud. Merlin flexed the hand behind his back, feeling a bit of blood trickle where he'd dug his nails into the flesh. The completion of the spell last time had dissipated the sting, but he'd still gotten a painful initial itch. Now it was time to try something useful.

Merlin turned so that he was facing the direction of Arthur and Gwen's voices, holding out his hand towards them, though he made sure to keep his marked arm jammed between his body and the wall. "**Tospringe.**"

There was a jangle across the corridor and a scuffle as the king and queen moved across the floor of their cell.

"Okay, now I'm _really_ hoping that was you."

"What happened?" He was fairly certain it hadn't worked. For one thing his arm still ached, and for another, no one had rushed towards him yet.

"The bars rattled a bit. What, were you trying to cause an earthquake? Somehow I fail to see how that will be productive."

Merlin just grimaced and tried again. "**Tospringe,**" he commanded more forcefully. "**Tospringe!**"

A bang and a clatter. Merlin hoped that was a good sign, because he was starting to get a headache from forcing his magic past the block of the brand. He sagged tiredly against the wall; little by little it was all catching up to him. A moment later running footsteps and a hand on his forehead assured him he'd been successful.

"Are you alright? Do you think you can move? Merlin, are you still in there? Can you hear me?"

"I'm fine, Gwen. Really." He wondered if he sounded more convincing to them than to his own ears. Probably not.

"Well, even if you're not, you certainly won't get any better sitting here. Come on."

His free arm was looped over Arthur's shoulders, and Merlin felt himself being hauled to his feet. He leaned heavily for a moment as his head swam, and his knees threatened to give way beneath him. Gwen took his other side as best she could and together they dragged him along through the dungeons. They stopped much sooner than he'd expected.

"How on earth did you–"

"We don't have time to explain. Merlin, Gaius and George are in here. Do you think you can…?"

"No, you don't have time for that either. Come back for us later. We'll be fine down here."

"Are you sure?" Merlin didn't feel right leaving his mentor down here. And he liked George, even if it was just for the fact that he annoyed Arthur to a degree even he couldn't manage.

"Can you swear to me you can do it without draining yourself further? Don't forget, I know you, boy. I can tell you're going to need everything you have left if you hope to be successful against Morgana."

Merlin was willing to try anyway, but he knew there was wisdom in those words. There usually was, unfortunately. "We'll be back. I promise."

"Too right, you will. Now go, before anyone comes and finds you wandering about."

They continued their aggravatingly slow process. Arthur insisted on hoisting Merlin over his shoulder for the stairs –"Oswin was right; you're so clumsy you really could break your neck going up and down these things blind. You're lucky I let you walk on your own when you _can_ see."–and refusing to put him back down again –"You're just slowing us down. Why don't you work on thinking about something else to do with that thing on your arm? I don't think Morgana's going to give you more than one shot at her."– as they snuck along.

He had a point. But unfortunately he was afraid Gaius did too. So how was he going to fix this using as little magic as necessary? It didn't even seem possible. _Maybe Arthur's right. Maybe the only way around this __**is**__ to simply chop off my arm._ Merlin didn't voice that thought aloud. Now that Gwen was close enough, there was no guarantee he wouldn't be the one who was hit.

His body jerked as Arthur threw the pair of them sideways. Merlin bit back a yelp as one of the burns on his leg hit the corner of a wall. He'd nearly forgotten about those. With his whip marks and broken bones healed and the effects of the slave brand to worry about, the fact that he had several other burns from when the slavers tortured him awake had slipped his mind. Oswin had told him she couldn't get rid of them, even with her magic. In fact…

_"You'll keep the scars from these, I'm afraid. I might be able to fix your back, but the burns on your arm and leg will stay. That was a special rod; the burns can't be healed, only changed."_

Changed. He needed to change the brand. But how was he to do that? He was no expert in druidic designs or how to counteract them; that was Gaius, or at least Gaius's books, neither of which he had. And Merlin was fairly certain that for all Arthur's verbal prodding, his friend wasn't about to let him stick another piece of hot metal on his skin any time soon.

It seemed he would have to resort to a less… elegant method.

Merlin grit his teeth and tensed as he steeled himself for the pain as he gathered much more force than he'd used previously and laid his hand on the mark. Whether this worked or not, this was going to _hurt._ "**Þurhhæle licsar min.**"

He nearly bit through his tongue to swallow the scream caused by the jolt. Merlin tasted blood, and it was a few moments before he realized Gwen was talking to him, having noticed his suddenly unconcealed distress and strangled cry.

"It's nothing," he lied hoarsely. "You may want to put me down, though. I'd almost forgotten exactly what this does."

"What are you trying to do?" Arthur whispered, doing a worse job of hiding his concern now than Merlin even was of hiding his exhaustion. He obeyed, however, leaning the warlock against a wall. Merlin guessed they were concealed in some kind of alcove.

"You'll see when it works." If he told them they would stop him, he was sure. "Just stand back, okay?" Merlin waited until he heard the reluctant receding footsteps before he lay his hand on his arm again. "**Þurhhæle licsar min.**"

Hurt didn't even begin to describe the feeling as his flesh began to burn. It was like the branding rod was being pressed into his skin again, only this time he'd been cut open first and it was being pushed into his very brain. An acrid smell filled his nostrils and for a moment he thought he saw a faint light, but as moments later he lay unconscious on the ground, he supposed it was possible could have been just the light at the end of the tunnel.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I went to put this up yesterday and could not. I don't know why. 'Twas very odd. Every time it gave me an error. FF. net just hates me, I think. Not that this is any revelation. After all, I have to change my country back to Germany every other day because it keeps switching to USA. I only to go uni there, not actually live!**

**Thanks for the well wishes, every one! My tests went great, and I get to go home (well, back to uni) on Friday. EVEN BETTER my prayers were answered and I got moved up the transplant list and put on the beeper today! Which means I'm going to be writing like a madman because if (hopefully ****_when!_****) that thing goes off I'm going to be out of commission for ages, so no updates for a very long time (in case you're morbidly curious, I've been waiting for a heart for ages).**

**Only a few more chapters left. I've got them mostly typed out, only maybe one or two left to unkink and we'll be all done! I know, so sad. Thank you everyone for the reviews! I know I say it every time, but you really are amazing!**

**Fun Fact: Oswin is a Hufflepuff.**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

"Merlin. Come on, Merlin, wake up. That's it; just open your eyes."

Arthur had been entirely prepared to see Merlin's arm dangling by a string from his shoulder. He probably would have started vomiting again, but it wouldn't have surprised him in the least by this point. When the light faded and all body parts were still attached if slightly more mangled, the only shock was that there wasn't more blood.

Guinevere was the one who had to check for a pulse. It was probably the most cowardly thing he had ever done –or rather, not done– in his life, but his legs were frozen to the ground. All he could see was the same still body slung over that horse with its blank eyes. It didn't even matter that this time Merlin's eyes were closed. When Guinevere sagged in relief and sighed, "He's alive. Barely, but he's alive," he didn't quite believe it until he spotted the tiniest movement of Merlin's chest up and down as he wheezed in and out.

Then she began her light tapping on his face, calling his name and trying to stir him. Arthur knelt and gently took the offending arm. It hadn't been blasted off, by any means, but it certainly hadn't been healed, either. Where before the brand had been a defined, almost spiky pattern winding about the skin, now it was just one giant, red, scarred mass. There was surprisingly little blood, but Arthur still went about the business of making a bandage for the mass anyway. Until Merlin woke up –and he _would_ wake up –there was no telling what he had done to it or if it was at risk for infection.

Arthur wasn't sure whether he hoped this was what Merlin had hoped to accomplish or not. On the one hand, it at least _looked_ like he'd succeeded in getting rid of that odious brand. On the other hand, the idiot had most definitely gone and damaged himself again. Arthur dreaded to think just what kind of damages this time would yield. Last time Merlin had tried to _starve himself_. Now it looked like he had tried to melt his arm off.

"We have to go. We can't just wait here. There's no telling when he'll wake up, and they could be here any minute."

They were currently hiding in the armoury, where they had just made it to as Merlin made his decision to do… whatever he'd done. There was no reason for Morgana to go there until she knew they were missing. If she truly did have control over all of his soldiers and knights –which after catching a glimpse of them in his dungeons and in the corridors Arthur was willing to believe she did– then she didn't need to arm herself to fight against them nor take over their weapons supply. Once she or Mordred discovered they had escaped the dungeons, however, this would be the first place they looked. It couldn't be helped, however; they needed swords.

What also couldn't be helped, though, was that fighting would be a lot more difficult while carrying an unconscious man. A task that would fall to Arthur, who, though Guinevere was certainly a very capable swordswoman in her own right, was also the better fighter of the two.

Which meant that they had to stay ahead of the game and flee before they could be caught. The whole fighting gambit was much more difficult in the first place when the force they were against were his own men, a fact Arthur was sure Morgana was well aware of. If they were to have to fight against Leon and Percival and Gwaine and Elyan, they would end up right back in those cells again in seconds.

"Where will we go?" Guinevere asked. "We can't fight them with just the two of us. Or even three of us. No matter how frightened of Merlin Oswin thinks they are, he can't do much if he can't even remain conscious, let alone stand."

Arthur sighed and hung his head. His pride was hurting as he made his choice, but now wasn't the time for pride and he knew it. "Get to our allies? That's all we _can_ do right now, isn't it? You're right; we can't oust Morgana alone right now, much as we might want to. And we need to get Merlin to help. The only choice we have is to get out of here."

Carefully he hefted Merlin back over his shoulder, Guinevere making sure the bandaged arm didn't hit anything too hard. Merlin didn't even groan. They slipped out of the armoury, now bearing a sword each –unfortunately no Excalibur, which was tucked away in his chambers, but that couldn't be helped– and Guinevere with an extra crossbow and quiver on her back. Arthur breathed a thank you prayer to whoever was listening that the corridors were mostly empty. Merlin was much, _much_ too light, but the weight of his own guilt that he should be that light made carrying him a difficult task the further they went.

They passed secret passage after secret passage, but could use none of them, as all of them were locked, and they had no way to unlock them. If Merlin had been awake, they might have been able use the same method he'd used to get them out of the cells, but Arthur wasn't even sure he would have been willing to ask it of him. It wasn't the magic. He was getting over the magic, far faster than he would have ever thought faster. It was the way the using of the magic was affecting him. No, sneaking out the front door may have been risky, but it was far less risky than allowing Merlin to potentially kill himself.

Not, it seemed, that Merlin had a problem with that.

"–_all your fault!_ I warned you! I told you over and over this was a bad idea. But would you listen to me? No, of course not. You were too lost in your stupid dream world to listen to anyone! If _anything_ happens to him, I swear, I'll… I'll…"

Arthur and Guinevere ducked into an alcove as the sound of Oswin's hysterical voice came around a corner.

"Nothing's going to happen–"

"That's right; 'nothing's going to happen', because you're going to find them. And if you don't find them, you're going to find someone else and create the best darn illusion on the face of the planet to make it look like you did find them, because if you don't, I will kill you. I may do it anyway. I don't care about the prophecy. I don't care what good deeds you may have performed in the past. I have defended you to the ends of the earth, but we have reached beyond that. We are done, Mordred. I hope you two are happy together."

Oswin stormed past their hiding place, angry tears streaming down her face, Mordred hurrying after her. "Please, Oswin, I didn't mean for this happen; you have to believe me!" he begged. "I'm sure they'll come of hiding soon! I don't know why they haven't already! I've been trying to contact Emrys. Maybe he doesn't believe me. This isn't like Morgana; she doesn't normally do things like this-"

Oswin whirled on him. "Oh, will you wake up and smell the roses already! You aren't twelve years old anymore, so grow up! This is exactly what she does. She isn't the same girl who helped you escaped from Camelot. People change. Obviously, since I never would have thought the same person who saved my brother from slave traders would allow him to be used as bait by a madwoman in her stupid scheme for revenge.

"I've let you have this fantasy of yours for too long, and look where it's led us. You nearly let one of the most important legendary figures of our time kill himself, and you let the king escape. It's time to focus, Mordred. Morgana doesn't care about anyone other than herself. She doesn't care about you, and you will never get her to care about Arthur."

Mordred was quiet, as he usually was when being berated by the girl. He slunk off miserably behind her, away from the hiding place of the three fugitives they looked for.

"Morgana kidnapped that little boy? Just to find us?" Guinevere whispered in horror.

"She knows we wouldn't let anything happen to him, not for our sakes. It's probably the whole point of him being here. We get out of line or Merlin decides to stop his comatose act, she threatens to hurt the boy. You saw how angry Oswin was that he was here in the first place. She must have known this was a possibility."

Arthur shifted Merlin on his shoulder so he could slide his ring off his finger and press it into Guinevere's palm.

"Arthur, what–"

He silenced her with a deep kiss. "She only really wants the two of us; the prophecy and all that. You have to go and get help, remember? I'll try to stall as best I can. If Merlin wakes up, he'll help. Maybe he can yawn at them." She let out a helpless chuckle. "More likely he'll try to steal my sword and fall on it."

Her smile vanished. "Just try and get out of this alive. Both of you. Whether Merlin likes or not."

* * *

This was bad. This was very bad. This was very, very not good.

Morgana had sent two of the enchanted knights to fetch Emrys from the dungeons, only to discover that he and the king and queen had somehow escaped. Mordred had been with her in the throne room, hoping for another opportunity to speak to her about the past, when she found out. The results had been… _explosive_, to say the least. Several windows were going to need to be replaced. Morgana had insisted that "the physician and her little brat" be brought to her immediately. Mordred had watched nervously as the knights obeyed, thinking they were to be blamed. The animosity between the two was plain.

"I'm sure they had nothing to do with it, Morgana. Oswin doesn't care for Arthur; she's only been doing what she can as a physician to keep Emrys alive. She doesn't even have keys to the cells."

"She wouldn't need them," Morgana said dismissively. "The doors were blasted off."

"Her magic can only be used for healing. She doesn't have any other skills. I know; I've tried training her. She can't even light a candle–"

"Relax, Mordred. I'm not calling her here to punish her." Her lips curled up in a smirk.

"You're not?"

"No. I'm calling the boy here to punish _them_."

And it had all rolled downhill from there.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it had all dropped off a sheer cliff from there. The enchanted knights had taken Tyus into custody and Mordred had had to drag Oswin away kicking and screaming –literally– to go search for Arthur and Emrys. Mordred had chalked that up as another point to his influence on her that Morgana still hadn't executed Oswin as the druid girl screamed obscenities at the sorceress, threatening to kill her in her sleep with one of her numerous poisons. Morgana had simply laughed and allowed Mordred to haul her away. He sent out plea after mental plea to Emrys, but either he couldn't them, didn't believe them, or simply wasn't listening.

Oswin's hatred shifted all over the place between Morgana for her cruelty towards her brother, Mordred for his naivety in thinking this could all go so smoothly, Arthur and Emrys for running away, and herself for ever trusting any of them –not that she had ever trusted Morgana, but she had allowed herself to get aligned with her anyway, which she decided was twice as bad and made her the biggest fool of all of them.

When Mordred wasn't shouting for (and at) Emrys, she was making him keep in constant contact with her brother to ensure Morgana hadn't hurt him yet. The boy was reasonably terrified, no matter what reassurances they gave him. It was all Mordred's fault Tyus was in this situation, and he knew it. If he hadn't brought the boy to watch Emrys, if he only brought one of the older servants... Morgana never would have used one of the older men as bait. He should have seen this coming when she used him to get Emrys to drink on the way to Camelot. She had been unafraid to use Emrys's weakness against him then in such a small way when there had been other ways to get him to drink. It had been a test. To see if it would work. It had, and now she was doing it again.

Mordred didn't understand why Emrys and the king hadn't given themselves up yet. He had taken off all restraints so that they wouldn't be impeded in their return. There was no reason why Emrys shouldn't be able to hear him. Which could only mean he was ignoring him. But why? Why would he _want_ Tyus to die? The boy had done nothing to him!

This was their very first meeting all over again. Once again Emrys was leaving an innocent boy to die. The thing was, this time Mordred wasn't even all that surprised. At least as far as Emrys's reaction was concerned. The king was another matter. It actually did break his heart that Arthur would not come. Maybe Morgana was right. Maybe it was all Emrys's influence that controlled Arthur's decisions…

Well, Mordred could deal with that. And deal with it he would, the moment he found the cowardly warlock who left children to die to save himself. Then maybe finally Oswin and Morgana would both be happy with him.

He couldn't let Morgana kill Emrys before because she needed to remember a time where killing wasn't the only answer. But he already knew that.

It didn't mean it couldn't be _an_ answer.

* * *

"Alright, Merlin, I really, _really_ need you wake up. Now would be great."

They were still hiding in the alcove. Guinevere had snuck off into the shadows, and as no one had come back for them, Arthur prayed that meant she had succeeded in escaping, not that she had been caught and simply was refusing to give them up. Arthur had put Merlin down and propped him up against a wall, his head lolling to the side. The servant still wasn't moving.

"Come on," Arthur gave him a couple of quick slaps on the cheek. "I'm sure I know what your answer is, but I'd really like to hear you say it before we do this. I'd like to hear you say anything. I'll even settle for you calling me a prat or a clot pole or any of your other ridiculous made up words." Try as he might to keep it a whisper, his voice was rising desperately. "Or you don't even have to talk. Just open your eyes. Or nod your head. Wiggle your fingers even. Honestly, when are you going to learn, Merlin, I'm the king! That means when I order you to do something, you have to do it!"

There was a noise. Arthur held his breath, not sure if it had come from his imagination or where he truly hoped it had. There it was again.

"Merlin?"

"When… you learn… never do… as told?"

Arthur let out a choked sound that later he would swear was a relieved laugh, definitely _not_ even close to a sob, and replied, "And we're going to have a long chat about that later, as well as about your desperate need to maim yourself, but right now we have another pressing matter to attend to."

Merlin winced, squeezing his eyes together, and said, "Tyus. Morgana. Hurt him. Us go."

"Okay, and that's _another_ chat we're going to have, about how you and Mordred can do that. I only know because of my supreme eavesdropping skills. Well, it's hard not to hear when Oswin comes shrieking by your hiding spot. But yeah, we have to turn ourselves in or she's going to hurt him. I won't let that boy get hurt for me, but I couldn't in good conscious take you in there without giving you a choice."

"Course. Not a choice."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Knew you'd say that. Any way you can let Oswin know that so she doesn't try to burn the castle down looking for us?"

Merlin shook his head. "Doesn't work like that."

"Don't worry. I don't need to set anything on fire. I'm an excellent finder."

* * *

Merlin _hurt_. He hurt and he was nauseous and he really just wanted a nap. But it seemed that wasn't about to happen anytime soon.

His head was pounding from more than just a headache as Mordred screamed at him that Morgana had taken Tyus hostage and to get to the council room _now_ or she would start to hurt him in punishment. He kept repeating that he was not making it up and what kind of legend was he that he would allow a child to die and was the greatest sorcerer to ever walk to the earth so cowardly that was this willing to remain in hiding no matter the stakes? Merlin wondered how long the druid boy had been trying to contact him while he'd been unconscious. He would have told Mordred they were coming, but he wasn't even sure he could get a word in edgewise.

Outside of his mind, he had Arthur begging him to wake him and do something, and while he would have loved to say something and reassure him, talking was not high on his "to do" list when he compiled the things he was capable of. Especially since even though he was now conscious, that list still currently consisted of breathing and nothing else. Once he managed to gather the ability to speak, however, at least Arthur stopped his constant prattling. That was a blessing.

But now Oswin was here. Lovely. So he had Mordred in his head and worry and guilt about a little boy being held hostage in his honour and Arthur to placate that he wasn't dead and now an angry sister who's brother he had gotten held hostage. Oh, and he was half-dead through injuries of his own infliction. Great. At least his day couldn't really get much worse.

"I hope you two are happy." Her voice was cold. "Was it worth it, this little jaunt of yours?"

"We're sorry, Oswin. Truly, we are. We never thought she would do anything to your brother."

"Oh, so you know about that, do you? Yet here you are, skulking in the dark instead of begging Morgana for his release! What kind of king are you? I thought you were supposed to care about all of your subjects, no matter who they were. Is it because he's just a druid? Because he has magic, even if it's just the barest minimum? What makes him any less than you? I keep asking myself what makes Emrys so willing to sacrifice himself so much for you, and I have to tell you, I'm going to continue asking it, because I just don't see it!"

Oswin knelt down beside him, the physician side of her battling with the furious side as she unwrapped the bandages on his arm to inspect the new damage he had inflicted.

"Once… Future… King…"

"Oh, yes, I know who he is! But look at you! You and Mordred, you're two of a kind. Willing to give up everything for your other half, even if it destroys you in the process. You can't even see how similar you are. Similar and complete opposites at the same time. Like day and night."

Day and night. That's what Kilgharrah had said too. Day and night. He'd used it as a reason why Merlin should most definitely not trust Mordred, not help him, not even associate with him, simply let him die, preferably in the most painful way possible, even while he was still just a little boy. But where day and night really that different? Was one really better than the other? The moon could only shine if the sun reflected off it. Day was a time to eat and work, night was a time to rest. Maybe night was related to shadows and darkness, but it was also coolness and relief from the scorching heat of the daylight. You couldn't have one without the other. People needed it and animals needed it and plants needed it. There was no sunset without first having a sunrise, and neither was less breath-taking than the other.

"Look, I know you have no reason to trust us. Well, me, mostly. I know it seems like I've done nothing but persecute you and your kind since the moment I entered my cradle and you're probably cursing the creators of your legends that somehow the signs point to me and wondering how that could be. Frankly, even I'm wondering that. But I swear, we are going to do whatever it takes to get your brother back safely. And then…" Arthur glanced down at Merlin, who was tuning out Mordred's screaming to listen as best he could. He gave a wry smile. "Then we're going to sit down and have a _long chat_ about this whole bringing back magic thing."

Merlin grinned through his exhaustion. He'd waited a long time to hear that. Part of him had wondered if this whole thing was just some kind of hallucination caused by his starvation and Arthur wasn't really there and wasn't really okay with him being a sorcerer and he was going to wake up after another couple force-feedings by Morgana to find out Arthur hated him and it didn't matter if Merlin went along with anything because Arthur was going to die hating him. Part of him still wondered that, but it was a small part.

Oswin looked dubious. "So you'd actually do it? You, the son of the man who banned magic in the first place? The man who hunted down and killed hundreds of sorcerers and druids, including innocent children, who had done nothing but be born guilty of the crime of having magic?"

Merlin winced as she flung the accusations at him, but he knew he couldn't rebut them. This was for Arthur to fight his way out of. She was right, Arthur had to prove he was worth his title.

"I'm not my father. I won't go hunting down and killing anyone unless they deliberately attack me first. And even then, I may be willing to forgive them, if they asked and truly meant it."

"And if that… took time? The asking?"

"Then I'd be right here waiting for when they did. Or at least I hope I will. I don't know. That remains to be seen."

Oswin finished rewrapping Merlin's arm, much tighter and neater than Arthur had, though she had nothing to put on it. Merlin wasn't sure it needed anything, though he hadn't actually dared look at it when she had bared it. Even he wasn't sure the extent the spell had gone to. So far as he knew, it was a crude spell for cuts, meant to heat the skin and coagulate the blood so that it cauterized, not exactly heat the skin so that it _melted_. He'd simply _amplified_ it a bit. How much he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Right. Well, let's go." Oswin held out a hand to him. Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I don't have magic strength or levitation or anything. A hand is all you get from me. You just said you'd do anything. I assume that includes turning yourselves in. That's what I need you to do."

Together Arthur and Oswin helped the servant to his feet, supporting him around the waist. Merlin refused to let Arthur put him back on his shoulder. If he was going to turn himself into Morgana, he was going to do it on his own two feet, even if that simply meant his feet were touching the ground while the other two dragged him along.

"You know… she's not… gonna give… him back…" Merlin puffed, exhausted even though he wasn't really moving himself.

"I know," Oswin replied, her tone filled with steel. "I expect she'll keep her talons in him until you two do everything she says or until she kills you. So you better make your move soon, Emrys. Because if someone isn't going to make it out of this alive, that someone had better not be him."

* * *

**A/N: I'll have you know, I've had that Day and Night argument since before I even wrote this story. I am very passionate about days and nights. To an extent that people make fun of me fun for it. That being an actual line in an episode was like the best day of my writing life.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry this is being uploaded at awkward o'clock on a Sunday instead of on Friday. Been doing the whole weird adjustment of coming back from hospital and settling into the dorms again. Since this is really really almost done, I swear I'm going to try to stay on top of it, but now that I'm back in the "real world" I have to actually get my assignments caught up on, too. This is taking priority, though, because if I wait to catch up, you'd be waiting until Hanukkah.**

**This chapter welcomes back the return of sassypants!Merlin. Since we've had mostly unconscious/mute!Merlin, I think it's a nice change. He's my absolute favourite Merlin (except maybe dark!Merlin, but I like reading that more than writing it).**

**(Also, quotes you don't recognize from earlier chapters come from the episode "The Tears of Uther Pendragon".)**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Morgana had been expecting Arthur and Merlin to show up. That it was taking so long was a bit of a surprise, but in the end, she knew they would be there. It was a given. That was why she had done it. There was a child's safety at stake. They would never let anything happen to a child. She didn't understand why anyone would ever doubt this.

Mordred, oddly enough, had been the one to harbour such qualms, running off to looking for them, refusing to believe her when she said they would come on their own. Did he not remember it was Merlin himself who brought child him crashing into her chambers all those years ago? He hadn't had a clue who Mordred was nor what he was up to in Camelot, only that he was a little boy in need of help. That had been enough for Merlin back then, and it was enough for him now.

It was enough for Morgana, too. She had no intentions of harming this boy, whether Arthur and Merlin showed up or not, no matter what she claimed. But they believed she would, and that was enough. The boy was as helpless as Aithusa. She was only cruel to those who deserved it, regardless of what anyone thought. This boy had done nothing to her. He was convenient, that was all. It was unfortunate he had to get mixed into this, but sadly it couldn't be avoided. It was even more unfortunately he had to have the shrieking harpy for a relative.

When her targets did show up, the biggest surprise was that the one leading them was not Mordred, but the shrieking harpy herself. Merlin sagged between the two, his eyes half-lidded. Morgana couldn't help but stare. She'd thought the young man looked nearly dead the last time she saw him, but now he truly did look like he had all but one abnormally large ear in death's door. One scorched sleeve had been ripped off at the elbow, and instead scraps of fabric were wrapped around his forearm where she knew the slave brand to be. Morgana frowned at that, wondering what was underneath. Mordred had said it was healed as much as it would get, and she had seen herself it was well-enough off it no longer was in need of bindings. What had they done to it?

Oswin stepped away as they came to a stop in front of her, allowing Arthur to take the full weight of the sorcerer. "Where is he, Morgana?" she demanded. "I brought you what you wanted, now give him back. Tyus has no part of this."

"Yes, well, two out of three isn't bad, I suppose. You brought the important ones, anyway. Gwen has no legitimate claim to the throne without her king, and she's really been nothing more than a minor pest. Let her run."

Morgana twitched her fingers, and Percival ambled forward, clutching the hand of the small boy. The knight regarded him fondly, as though he were a puppy that he had been gifted. "Do stop glaring, girl. He's fine. They've been playing cards. Or at least trying to, anyway. I think he's a bit scared of dear Percy. It's the size thing. I thought to leave him with Gwaine instead, but Gwaine's not that good with children, even when he is sober."

Arthur actually snorted at that. Morgana had to work her hardest not make eye contact with him. She was afraid if she did they might exchange eye rolls. Familiarity was not what she was going for here.

"Go on, then, Sir Percival. Let the boy go."

Percival pouted like his puppy was being cruelly torn away, but he did as he was told, loosening his hold on Tyus's hand. The little boy hesitated at first, unsure if it was all a trick, but after a moment he decided to take a chance and run. Oswin scooped him up and held him tight, eying Morgana warily, clearly as unsure about the permanence of the situation as her brother.

"As you said, I have what I want. You brought me Arthur, so you get the boy."

_"Is this what you want, Morgana? Because I'm not sure you even know what that is anymore."_

Morgana shook her head briefly to clear the voice. "Although I'm not sure why he would ever agree to come," she sneered down at her own brother. "After all, you did poison him to force him to stay here. If it wasn't for your actions, he might have been able to run. He could be with his allies right now, planning a march to overthrow me. Instead he's stuck here with a dying sorcerer-slave just biding his time until I kill them both."

"She did what she thought she had to do. Was it wrong? Yes. Do I think she's slightly unstable? Most definitely. But when it comes down to it, Merlin and I didn't come here for Oswin, we came for the boy. He hasn't done anything, and you know it, which is why you just gave him up so easily."

"Maybe _he's_ innocent, but _you're_ certainly not, are you,_ dear_ _brother_?" Morgana snapped, unwilling to allow him the upper hand. "If you were we wouldn't be in this situation, would we?"

"_Me_?" Arthur sputtered, clearly taken aback. "No one ever forced you into this, Morgana, and certainly not me!"

"Oh, so I just decided to outlaw myself, did I?"

"We would have figured something out! I never would have let anything happen to you!"

_"It doesn't have to be like this. We can find another way."_

Why did they both insist on toying with her with these putrid, bald-faced lies! "No. You would have thrown me to the dogs and allowed Uther to execute me just like every other sorcerer, and you know it."

"How do you know? You never gave me a chance to do otherwise. You just decided to skip that and go for the jugular. No one threw you out, Morgana. You abandoned us, not the other way around."

His disappointment was so genuine she almost believed him. This was how he had looked at her three years ago, too, when they had seen each other again for the first time. He'd tried to sell to her that he wasn't like Uther then, too.

_"You've driven away everyone who ever cared for you, because you're so afraid of being denied that you won't even give them a chance to prove they won't."_

"You are my sister, Morgana. More than that you were my friend. Our friend. We cared "about you. Merlin, Guinevere, and I."

That was the last straw. "Merlin? _Merlin?_" Morgana turned her attention now to the young man Arthur had been working hard to support all this time. Slowly the warlock had slipped from his grip so that he was mostly sitting sprawled on the ground and leaning up against the king's leg. "_Merlin _probably wants to see me dead more than anyone else in this room! I think he's tried to kill me more times than I have you!"

She saw Arthur opening his mouth and preparing to give his "Merlin is an incompetent idiot who couldn't kill a housefly" argument, but he gave one look at the half-dead servant at his feet and snapped it shut again. _Well, it seems old dogs can learn new tricks_. Instead he went with "Well, seeing as you seem bent on destroying his home and using him as a slave, I can't say that I blame him."

Morgana's smile returned. She had found her solid ground again. "How about before I did any of that, then? Before I ever left Camelot, before anyone ever found out. Anyone except _Merlin_, that is. Would you like to tell him, Merlin? Would you like to tell the class what you did?"

"Wasn't my fault…" Merlin mumbled miserably, refusing to meet her eyes.

"It wasn't your fault?" Morgana repeated, a disbelieving laugh escaping of its own accord. "So, what, now you're going to try to tell me you didn't know what was going to happen when you gave me that water? It's a little late for that, Merlin. We both know that's a lie. You gave the bottle to Morgause yourself."

"Didn't want to do it."

"_Then why did you_?" She swept over to where her prisoners failed to cower before her. Using her magic, she lifted Merlin up so that he was eye level with her, brushing Arthur and his protests off to the side with the bat of a hand. "Why did you poison me, Merlin?"

"You were… anchor… for the spell… Everyone would have died." Her spell wasn't choking him, but it was clear he was still struggling to get the words out for his own reasons, the same pain that had been in Arthur's eyes just as clear in his. "I tried to protect you, to the very end. Came up with lie… about the potion, remember? I really did think it was just your magic. Right until I figured out it wasn't. If it was… I wouldn't have started to sleep. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Morgana. I couldn't let everyone die. But I never wanted it to turn out like this."

_"Did you ever consider then that your future would be this?"_

No. No, she hadn't.

"I didn't want this either, Merlin," she replied softly, surprising even herself. "All I wanted was to be accepted. To not be a monster in my own home."

"You don't have to be. You never had to be," he whispered back.

_"You're not alone anymore, Morgana. That you still feel that way is your own choice… Not everyone is going to abandon you. You just have to be willing to take that chance."_

Maybe she hadn't wanted things to turn out like. But it was too late now. Too late to turn back. Even if she chose to stop this now, she could never return. For all their grand words, she would never be forgiven. Not by her family, not by her friends, not by her people. She was an outcast. She had no one.

And if she believed what they said, it was all through her own doing.

"Yes, I do."

Suddenly the doors slammed open and Mordred stormed in at last. He spared a glance at the girl and her brother, who had retreated to the farthest corner possible. Then he stalked over to his place beside Morgana. _"Emrys,"_ he hissed through clenched teeth.

Morgana released Merlin and let him drop to the ground. Arthur, set free as well, rushed over to reassure himself his friend had sustained no further harm, despite the fact he had watched the whole thing.

"Take them back to the cells, Mordred."

Everyone in the room froze. "W-what? That's it? You're not going to punish them?"

"I'm taking away Arthur's throne. I think that's punishment enough." Morgana turned and walked away. She needed time and space to think. Her earlier rage fuelled adrenaline was quickly leaving her now, reminding her it was nearly dawn, and she hadn't rested all night for nerves. Her body was beginning to grow heavy with the weight of both her exhaustion and all these _feelings_.

Mordred still wasn't moving. "But I thought you meant to kill them," he protested angrily.

Morgana frowned as she slumped onto the throne. "And if I remember correctly, you were the one who protested this course of action. I'm taking your advice. You should be happy. Now do as you're told, Mordred, and take them to the dungeons."

"No."

Morgana cocked an eyebrow. He had disagreed with her several times in the past few days, but never so forthrightly. "No?"

"I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Mordred, it's late –early, actually – I haven't slept; I'm really not in the mood for this–"

"I apologize, my lady. This is my fault." The young druid began pacing the council chambers, penned in by the colonnades like a wild animal. The occupants of the room save the clueless knights eyed him with just as much wariness. "If I hadn't argued with you before, if I had just done what I needed to do in the first place, this all could have been prevented. But I promise, I'll make up for it now. I won't fail you again."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

The physician girl seemed to have a better idea at least than any of them, because she chose that moment to pipe in, "Mordred, no. We've talked about this; now's not the time."

"Oh, I know now's not the time, Oswin. The time is long past! The time was years ago when I first met him. The time was days ago when I first _bought_ him! I never should have let you heal him. But when I did, I never should have convinced you to feed him so he wouldn't die, my lady. You said your plan would work without him, and it was my own stupid fault for telling you to go with my idea instead."

Morgana was starting to understand where this was going, and it seemed Arthur did to. He moved closer to Merlin, trying to draw the other man behind him, flicking his eyes about searching for some kind of escape route. Of course there wasn't one, especially not since Merlin couldn't move on his own yet. Morgana rose from her chair and stepped closer to the manically pacing druid, noting Oswin doing the same out of the corner of her eye.

"Mordred. Dear, why don't you get some rest? I think you'll feel better after you sleep–"

"Stop treating me like a child, Morgana! I'm not your little lost boy anymore!"

No, he certainly wasn't. He was a young man on the edge, almost exactly where she had been for the last six years. She had no idea what had driven him to this point, but it was clear he wasn't going to be brought back from any more easily than she had.

"Mordred, you can't do this," Oswin tried patiently. "You know you can't; that's why you haven't done it before. He's Emrys; think of the prophecy."

"What do you care?" He spat back, finally stopping his dizzying track to stand in one spot and whirl on her. "You were practically raised under a 'kill the Once and Future King' banner. It was your favourite bedtime story for goodness sake! What makes this any different?"

"Because killing Arthur will allow for the return of magic. But you can't _kill_ Emrys. He _can't die_."

"But he can feel pain. I know he can feel pain. And I can be the one to _make_ him feel it."

His eyes glowed gold, and everyone in the room waited with bated breath as…

Nothing happened.

* * *

It was like waking up from a nap. A very long nap he didn't remember falling asleep for in a place he didn't remember falling sleep in.

It seemed Percival wasn't the only one. Gwaine was standing next to him, blinking curiously and glancing around the room in a daze. They seemed to be the only ones in their little area. "What just happened?" he mouthed.

"I'm not sure…"

"Mordred. Dear, why don't you get some rest? I think you'll feel better after you sleep–"

"Stop treating me like a child, Morgana! I'm not your little lost boy anymore!"

They froze. They knew that voice, at least the first one, anyway, though they had no idea who this Mordred was nor why they were arguing. Both her presence and the tones of the conversation signalled nothing but bad things.

Both of them were concealed behind colonnades at the back of the council chambers. With a tiny flick of his head, Gwaine signalled to Percival that he was going to try to sneak a peek out to see what was going on. The larger knight followed suit, leaning to his right to get a better view.

A curly haired young man stood in the middle of the room in front of the king and Merlin. Merlin, who was _alive_. Percival didn't even have time to digest that shocking revelation at the moment with everything else that was happening. Morgana's back was to them, her arms crossed over her chest as she listened to the young man rant. Gaius's new assistant was there as well for some reason, creeping towards the group, holding out a hand calmingly. They all seemed to be looking at the man like he was a taut arrow they were waiting to see when he would escape from the bow.

Oddly, not a one of them was watching Morgana with any type of concern.

"But he can feel pain. I know he can feel pain. And I can be the one to _make_ him feel it."

The man's eyes flashed gold, and Percival winced as he expected someone, probably Arthur, to end up writhing on the ground. But the reaction that came instead was an open-mouthed gasp of frustration and another flash of gold.

"No. What? But- how?"

"Sorry. Was getting a bit tired of people… able to control me… snap of their fingers." Merlin's speech came out in strained pants. He clawed his way up Arthur's side to leverage himself to his feet so he could stare down his adversary straight in the eye. "Don't feel bad. It's not all gone. Still gotta work to stop you. But I can do it now."

"_No_!" The curly haired man roared. "That's not _possible_!"

The room trembled. Several pairs of knees buckled as people were thrown off balanced. It was obvious the only reason Merlin remained standing was Arthur's arm around him. Percival silently signalled Gwaine, and they made their move. Leaping out from behind the stone columns, they lunged for Morgana. In one swift move Percival crushed her arms behind her back while Gwaine snaked a sword up to her throat.

"_And how did they do that?_ I thought you had them under your control!" the man bellowed as another tremor rocked the small space.

"She's trying to take away… will of a whole castle. Not as easy as you think. I'm not surprised a few slipped through the cracks. 'Specially with you throwing your little temper tantrum."

"Merlin, I thought we discussed you _not_ trying to kill yourself," Arthur muttered under his breath.

"Call off your dog, Morgana," Gwaine growled.

"Actually, I'm not the one who told him to attack," Morgana snapped back. "And I'm not sure if you've noticed, but he doesn't seem to be keen on listening to me right now."

"He's too busy moping," Merlin wheezed with a sneer, ignoring the shake Arthur gave him to try to shut him up. "Because I figured out how to beat him. Wasn't even that hard. Didn't think about what would happen if I was stronger than you, did you, Mordred?"

"Shut _up!_"

Mordred threw out his hand towards the pair. Arthur was blasted back across the room, landing with a thud near the wall. Merlin simply dropped hard to his knees, unable to remain standing without support. Other than that he appeared mostly unaffected by whatever Mordred had done.

"Mordred…" Oswin stepped forward from where she had retreated when the council chambers started to shake. "Mordred, just wait for one moment. I know we're not going to convince you to stop, but just… wait. Just let Tyus leave. Can you do that? You're scaring him. And if you decide to bring this place down around our ears, I'd rather he not be here for it. Please, Mordred. You owe me that much. Let him leave, then you can go back to whatever it is you think you're trying to do."

He hesitated, and for one long minute it was unclear whether he was going comply with her request or simply send her flying across the room as well. Then finally he nodded tersely and lowered his hand. Oswin beckoned behind her and a little boy Percival hadn't even noticed before scurried forward.

"Do you remember where the dungeons were? Okay, I want you to go back there and stay with Gaius, okay? He was that nice old man, remember. He won't be able to come out of his cell, and you won't be able to go in, but stay with him until I come to get you."

The little boy nodded. He hugged the wall as he shuffled out of the council chambers, keeping one terrified eye on Mordred, who watched him just as closely, his manic anger clouded now with traces of guilt, as if he had forgotten the boy was in the room.

The door had hardly swung shut behind him, however, when Merlin made his move. Just as Percival and Gwaine had taken advantage of Morgana's distraction by the mini-earthquakes, Merlin used Mordred's lack of attention on him now to lunge forward, tackling him to the ground. Mordred's head connected hard with the floor, dazing him. Blindly he kicked out until he made contact, sending the servant curling away from him.

The room erupted into chaos. Gwaine and Percival were stuck chomping at the bit as they worked to keep Morgana out of the fight, pinning the sword tighter to her throat and threatening to slice if she tried to interfere on Mordred's behalf. Arthur and Oswin both moved to try to intercede, though which side Oswin meant to fight for was unclear, but Mordred let out a primal scream from the floor and both were blasted back. The knights and Morgana were sent reeling as well, and the only reason they managed to keep a hold of her was because they were sent straight into the throne, knocking their wind out, but thankfully not their grip.

The two fighters struggled to their feet, Merlin more so than Mordred. Mordred attempted to send another spell at the servant, but again it did nothing but stagger him a bit. "Having problems, Mordred?" Merlin taunted.

"Why does that still work but nothing else?"

"I dunno. Maybe you should ask the master. I hear he's really smart." Instinctively he ducked as Mordred shot a fireball this time, reaching up a hand to catch it. "Now, that wasn't nice. I was just answering your question." He clumsily launched the fireball back at him.

The aim was off, but the next one he sent, one of his own power, wasn't. That one caught Mordred right in the chest, knocking him back into a pillar and rendering him unconscious. Merlin lurched over to him and grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry, Mordred," he murmured, as he reached once more for the dwindling spark of his magic.

"Merlin, stop!"

Everyone turned to look at Morgana, who was still in the clutches of the knights.

"I'll take him. I'll him away from here. We'll leave, and we won't come back. You have my word."

"And what makes you think I would trust that?" he croaked.

"Nothing. You don't have a single reason to trust me. But it's the truth. And I'll allow you to do whatever you deem necessary to ensure that's going to stay true. He was right, Merlin… Everyone deserves a chance. I'm finally asking for mine."

Merlin looked around at the others for help. Gwaine shook his head vehemently, while Percival just stared in shocked awe of the whole exchange. Oswin, well, he didn't really care what Oswin thought.

Arthur seemed to be chewing hard on the idea. Merlin knew the king had to be struggling with the thought just as much as he was. Let Morgana go? Just let her waltz out of Camelot as if nothing had ever happened? And with Mordred in tow? Of course Arthur didn't know everything, didn't know how Mordred was destined to kill him, or half of the things Morgana had done that Merlin had covered up over the years. All he knew was that right then it looked like Morgana was finally giving up. Which meant he had a chance, the slightest chance, of getting part of his family back.

Merlin knew right then what his choice would be. He supposed he'd known it all along. Forgiveness was part of Arthur's code. It was why he'd married Gwen even after everything that had happened with Lancelot. It was why he had stood there beside Merlin keeping him on his feet instead of running him through the second he'd got his hands on a sword when he found out he was a sorcerer. That was just _Arthur_.

So when he saw the stoic nod, he wasn't surprised in the least. In fact, even if he wasn't sure he agreed with it, a part of him was just a bit proud.

He sighed and glanced at Morgana. "Don't leave without saying goodbye, yeah?" Then Merlin turned back to Mordred and re-gripped his arm. **"Sele séo seht. Ontrymme rice tmfeald. Ofergiete ælcwuhtes!**"

And as Night fell, dawn was just beginning to peek over the horizon.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the really long author's notes.**

**Technically speaking, Morgana's kinda right. Merlin actually has "tried to kill her" about as many times by this point as she has personally tried to kill Arthur. Every other time the goal is usually just to kill Uther or to kill everyone in general.**

**Merlin – Morgana: The Fires of Idirsholas, The Tears of Uther Pendragon, The Crystal Cave, A Servant of Two Masters (although she didn't know it at the time, and he likely actually wasn't really attempting to kill her, though he probably wouldn't have been disappointed had it happened), The Sword in the Stone**

**Morgana – Arthur: The Eye of the Phoenix, His Father's Son, A Servant of Two Masters, The Sword in the Stone**

**Also, this is the last time I come up with my own spells. I think from now on I'm sticking to "he said something and his eyes turned gold." Seriously, I am a spell failure. It mostly seems to be about intention, so yeah. Everything's made up, and the spells don't matter.**

_**Sele **_**_séo seht. Ontrymme rice tmfeald! Ofergiete ælcwuhtes_****: Transfer binding between. Increase power tenfold. Forget everything!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: And another chapter comes and goes. I've finished typing them all out, so now it's just a matter of me remembering and taking the time to put them up. This is sadly the last week for this story. Now it's time to start prepping for NaNoWriMo! In which I implement my own rules and start writing next week because I have no idea where my life will take me. I'm not going to post anything until November, though. I've been having trouble deciding which plot to do, so expect a poll on my profile to be up today (Wednesday) through Friday.**

**(Edit: Poll is now up, with descriptions of my top two contenders!)**

**Thank you everyone once again for the reviews! Even the ones that are just a quick "Great update" are always wonderful to see! **

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

When Merlin opened his eyes, he fully expected someone to be looking down at him, or a sleeping figure hunched by his feet. Wasn't that how these things worked? You woke up from your harrowing excursion to find your loved ones holding vigil at your bedside?

It wasn't that he was _disappointed_ or anything that he awoke to an empty room.

He was merely _surprised_ was all.

And perhaps a bit disappointed.

Of course, seconds later he was unconscious again, so in the end he wasn't sure it even mattered.

* * *

The next time he was awake for a few moments longer, but still no one was there. Though he supposed it was to be expected. From the dimness around him, it had to be the middle of the night. It wasn't like he could get and go look for anyone anyway. Merlin couldn't hardly lift his head and look around to see if someone really was there and he'd just missed them. His entire body felt like lead. Painful lead, like his bones were surrounded by a mesh of spikes. He pried his jaw open, meaning to call out, but the mesh squeezed it closed again, and he drifted away.

* * *

The third time, he was still alone, but at least now there were voices. Or perhaps they were axes. Loud, angry axes that chipped away at his pounding head.

"–not going near him–"

"–stupid stubborn pride–"

"–help him before if you could–"

"–one who told me to stay–"

"–care what the idiot said!"

" –must insist– –needs his rest–"

"_He's been sleeping for five bloody days!_"

"Hello, there. You're awake, then?"

Merlin blinked, startled, as the small voice popped up next to his ear. With great effort he allowed his head to fall to the right. Which caused another start as he realized who the voice belonged to. Mordred sat on the floor by the bed, one of Merlin's herb books open in his hands. A bandage was wrapped around one hand, small spots of pink dotting through. He dropped the book with a thud when he noticed Merlin looking at him.

"Sorry. I didn't like it when Morgana and the king started shouting, so I snuck in here. Is this your room? I didn't mean to touch anything. I was just looking. I liked the pictures. Morgana promised to get me more picture books, but she hasn't been able to yet. I'll put it right back where I found it, promise. I was just going to wait here, but then I noticed you jump when the king yelled. Why are you sleeping? It's the middle of the day, you know. I'm Mordred. What's your name?"

Merlin stared as the boy babbled. He hadn't been sure what to expect when he found Mordred unsupervised in his room while he lay there unconscious, but that hadn't quite been it.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to clear his mind back to the moments before he'd blacked out that last time. He'd been running on the last vestiges of his strength by that point, and running on instinct. Luckily that was usually how his magic worked best. Merlin opened his eyes again and looked back at Mordred again, this time the impact of what his spell had to have done crashing in on him.

Oh. _Oh_. He hadn't meant for that to happen. That was the punishment he got for working magic with nine-tenths of his mind gone to pot. And it was Mordred who had paid the price.

Merlin found it hard to be remorseful, though. Perhaps it was better this way. He'd meant the forgetting spell to only erase what was related to the prophecy. Anything related to him, or Arthur, or Camelot in general. It wasn't supposed to wipe away everything about him and leave this child-like man in his place.

But this Mordred would never be able to follow through on his anger again. Would never even consider it, even if one day he felt it again. It was a terrible blessing, and Merlin pitied him, but if given the choice, he would not take back his actions.

"I–"

"Where did he go? _How did you lose him?_"

"He won't have gone far. _You _were probably frightening him, you big tyrant."

"Morgana, I _swear_, I will throw you in the bloody dungeons if you can't–"

"_Excuse me, _but if you two would stop _shouting_ at each other for one moment, you might notice that Merlin's door's open."

Half a second later, Merlin found himself surrounded by people just as he'd been expecting the other times he'd dragged himself into conscious. However, his well-wishers seemed determined to continue to defy the norm by completely ignoring him.

"Out. Morgana, I want him out of here, now," Arthur demanded, glaring down at Mordred, who whimpered at now being the subject of the raised voices. "Take him back to your rooms. I don't even want him near here again. If he needs that changed, Gaius will come to you. He doesn't leave; is that understood?"

Merlin expected Morgana to snap back with a staunch defence of Mordred, but instead she actually ducked her head a bit and held a hand out to the boy. The druid took it meekly, allowing Morgana to pull him to his feet.

"I found a picture book, Morgana," he explained in a soft voice. "Can I have one like this? I like this one. It has pretty flowers in it."

Morgana smiled thinly, her tone strained, though she seemed to force brightness into it. "Of course you can, Mordred. Now come along, dear. Merlin needs his rest."

"Merlin? Is that his name?" Mordred turned back to the warlock on the bed, oblivious to the way everyone in the room tensed as he did so. "You shouldn't sleep so late, Merlin. You won't be able to go to sleep at night time. That's what Morgana says, isn't it, Morgana?"

"Yes, that's right." Morgana gave him another tug, one eye on Arthur's growing frustration that they hadn't obeyed him yet. "But Merlin's a little sick right now, so he needs to sleep to make himself feel better. And to rest he needs to have quiet. You understand?"

Mordred nodded and finally let himself be led along. It seemed he couldn't help adding petulantly, however, "But _I was_ being quiet. I was just _reading_."

As they made their way out the door of the physician's chambers, Arthur keeping a close watch from Merlin's doorway as if he didn't trust them to actually leave, Merlin heard Mordred's child-like questioning once again. "So who exactly is that?"

"He's a friend of the king."

"Oh. So is he a friend of yours?"

"You'd need to ask him that."

At the click of the latch, the crowd of guardian and royals around him turned away from the doorway and finally turned their attention to the man in the bed. Gaius broke the awkwardness by going immediately into physician mode, taking Merlin by the wrist and checking his pulse, feeling his forehead for fever. He didn't go near the bandage on his arm, for which Merlin was grateful. He wasn't quite ready to look at that yet.

Gwen took over his other side, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Are you in any pain?" He shook his head. He was, but he didn't want anything for it. What he wanted were answers. Right now the pain was the only thing keeping him awake to get them. She held up a goblet of water. "Do you think you're up to drinking this?"

His stomach churned at the thought. He had to have eaten in the five days Arthur had claimed he was asleep –he wondered if it had been Gaius or Oswin that had helped that process along– but even the idea of taking a sip of water was more than he could stand at the moment.

"It doesn't matter if you think you are or not. You're doing it anyway," Arthur snapped from where he still stood on the far side of the room.

Gwen and Gaius gently helped him to sit up. Waves of dizziness swept over him with every breath of movement, but they kept him going, ignoring his groans. Merlin nearly whited out at one point when they jarred him too quickly trying to prop his pillows behind him, clinging to consciousness by a thin thread. Gwen then held the goblet to his lips and tilted it carefully, letting the tiniest bit flow in for him to sip, then taking it away so he wouldn't choke.

"I'll send for some broth." She stood, patting Merlin firmly on the arm and giving him a much warmer smile than the one Morgana had gifted Mordred. Gwen paused by her husband as she made to leave the room, leaning up to murmur into his ear. Merlin caught what she said anyway. "Be gentle. Remember, it's not his fault."

Merlin tried not to wince. She wondered what exactly she was referring to. Mordred's state? The fact that he and Morgana were still here? The fact that they were _ever_ here? Or worse… his magic? He'd thought Arthur was okay with it, but maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was still planning on punishing him. Maybe Gwen was having to reason with him to keep Arthur from throwing him out on his ear until he was well enough to actually land on his feet.

He didn't realize his frantic thoughts were leaking out of his brain until Gaius laid a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, my boy. It's all over. Mordred is being locked back in his room as we speak."

"And he'll stay there if Leon wants to ever see the light of day again," Arthur growled. "I've got eight knights on that door. Three in the courtyard below the window."

Of course. They thought he was afraid of Mordred. But really, what was there to be afraid of in a man who didn't even know who he was? Instead of correcting them, he asked in a rough croak, "What was he doing here in the first place?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "He accidently cut himself with the fire poker when he was playing with it. Morgana said he was riding the thing around the room like a horse. Lucky he didn't stab himself with the foot with it. No one even thought to take it out when they swept the place."

"Wait, he's not in the dungeons?"

Arthur shifted on his feet, not quite coming closer, yet closing the gap between them just the slightest. He wouldn't look Merlin in the eye. "He and Morgana are locked in her chambers for the time being. I thought it better. They're being heavily guarded. I swear, Merlin, neither you nor I are in any danger."

"I wasn't worried."

"Well, no, you wouldn't be, would you? Since you took the whole reprisals option out of the picture."

Arthur didn't sound angry at all like Merlin thought he would, considering Gwen's warning or his own phrasing. Indeed, it came out rather matter-of-fact.

"I didn't mean to go that far," Merlin explained desperately, ashamed nonetheless. "I was just trying to make it so he couldn't use his magic against us anymore. Then I needed him to forget so he wouldn't try to get revenge for that on top of everything else."

Gaius stepped in on that one. "It's alright, Merlin. As I've already told the king and Morgana, and from what we have found from a bit of careful experimentation, you weren't in total control while you were casting those spells. Your magic couldn't handle the idea of reigning in for a small spell, so it simply exploding everything it had left into those last big ones. It's very dangerous business doing sorcery when you're as exhausted as you were."

"A fact, _Mer_lin, that Gaius tells us you knew full well _before_ this whole thing happened. So tell me _Merlin_, what on earth possessed you to _bloody let yourself get into such a state and then do it anyway?_"

"Arthur," Gaius warned, staring the king down, "I told you before. I won't have you in here if you're only going to berate him."

"_I'm not berating him!_" Arthur yelled, crossing the room in two large strides to stand by the side of the bed. "I'm asking a _simple question!_ _Why, Merlin? _Was Mordred really worth nearly killing yourself for? **_Again?_**"

Merlin sighed. He should have seen this coming. Should have seen it coming from the moment he made the decision to stop eating when he was in Mordred's clutches. He knew why he hadn't, of course. Because he hadn't needed to. Because he wasn't supposed to make it out of that situation to have to discuss the whys of it with Arthur afterwards.

Or just like every other time he risked his neck for the prat and Arthur actually noticed the ramifications –which was such a rare occurrence Merlin could count them on one hand –he was supposed to be able to brush it off, make a flip statement or a jibe and Arthur would laugh and they would carry on their ways. Even years ago, when Merlin had nearly died twice in one year, once with the Dorocha and once from a mace, both in Arthur's clear sight, all it had taken was one look at a miraculously recovered Merlin to make him completely forget the events had ever happened.

Maybe that was the problem now. There was no miracle recovery this time. Merlin looked, perhaps, much better than he had when he was beaten and bloody with the slave traders, but he had a feeling it was only marginally. Arthur had to look at him this time in his deaden state for a prolonged period of time where just having him open his eyes after five days was considered a colossal improvement.

It was no wonder he was wondering why exactly would lead anyone to put themselves in such a position.

"Gaius, could we have a minute?"

Gaius nodded understandingly. "Of course. But if you can't control yourself, sire, I _will_ throw you out again." He closed the door softly behind him.

"Gaius threw you out before?" Merlin snickered. Well, at least he knew now why no one had been there he woke up before.

"Something about the proper _decorum_ befitting a king in a sickroom," Arthur muttered under his breath. "Something which, _apparently_, I should be better practiced at, because it turns out that a certain _someone_ has a habit of getting themselves nearly killed."

"Arthur, I'm–" Merlin paused, trying to his own head around the words he wanted to say. "No, no I'm not. I'm not sorry. I'm sorry about that, if it makes you feel better, because I know it hurts you that I'm not, but I just can't be. It's my destiny to protect you. I don't regret that, even now."

Arthur was silent for a long time, his expression unfathomable. Merlin was sure he still saw anger, and confusion, and a hint of sadness. He hoped he wasn't imagining the friendship, nor the gratitude.

"So, your magic," he murmured finally. Of course, it _had_ to come back to the magic. "Do you swear on your life you only use it to protect me?"

"No."

Arthur's eyes widened and he leaned back in surprise. That had clearly not been the answer he was expecting.

"But I can swear it on yours, because it's much more precious to me than my own."

* * *

"I'm not going to break, Gaius. I'm not made of glass. Look, I can feed myself and everything."

Indeed, Merlin was wolfing down –or actually holding himself back from wolfing down; while his appetite had returned, his stomach's ability to keep up with it had not– a bowl of stew, alternating it with a piece of soft fresh bread from the kitchens.

"Yes, and the key to keeping you that way is to keep your environment calm. Letting that band of hooligans in is not the way to–"

"Merlin!"

Gwaine burst through the door, followed quickly by Percival and Elyan. The three wore anxious looks, all changing to instant relief as they caught sight of him sitting up on his bed scarfing soup. Merlin put the food down and grinned brightly at his friends. Gwen had been telling him the past three days they wished to visit, but despite the fact they were actually in charge of guarding his door- a fact wheedled out of Gwen during one visit when he realized there were way more voices in the corridor than had ever been there before- the physician had been adamant no one but the king and queen -and on several occasions only the queen- were allowed in to see him, citing his need for a proper recovery.

He'd been worried at first. Percival and Gwaine had been there, after all, when he fought Mordred. Arthur had confirmed that they all knew, though they were keeping it between their small group for now. Gwen swore that none of them thought any differently of him. Arthur promised nothing had changed.

He knew they were wrong, of course. Because Merlin was different, and things had changed.

Gaius threw up his hands in exasperated defeat. "Fine, then! Fine. On your own heads be it." He stomped out of the room, grumbling under his breath.

"You know how hard it's been knowing you were just on the other side if that doorway, mate? Gaius has been a right bear about it, not taking his rounds unless we're not on duty or someone's in here to keep us out." Gwaine ruffled his hair, taking Gwen's usual place on the edge of Merlin's bed. Elyan sat on the stool and Percival on the bedstead. "I was ready to commit regicide the next time it was Princess who tried to slam the door in my face."

"I don't think that'd be wise. Gwen probably wouldn't appreciate it, though she might at least understand your motives."

"In which case I could look forward to a nice banishment as opposed to the parade I deserve. That's fine. Been there, done that. Besides, I don't think it would have come to that. I was there the first time Princess was thrown out of your room for misconduct. That's enough blackmail material for a twenty minute visit at the very least. Perhaps even a Sunday brunch."

"What Gwaine's not telling you is he got tossed out after him because started yelling at Arthur about not executing you for sorcery," Elyan admitted pointedly, glaring accusedly at Gwaine.

"I thought we weren't supposed to bring that up..." Percival mumbled.

"Right, 'cause it might 'upset' him," Gwaine growled. "Of course it's going to _upset_ him! Why wouldn't it? I still stand by it, though, Merlin. Arthur's _not_ going to execute you, not if I can help it."

"But Arthur's not going to execute me."

"That's right, he's- he's not?

Merlin couldn't help but chuckle at Gwaine's incredulity, despite the circumstances. "Of course he's not. I did just save Camelot after all. It would be rather rude of him to kill me after all this effort."

The knights snorted, their relief clear, though not as clear as Merlin's. It was strange. He'd spent his entire life in fear. Yet even after experiences with people like Will and Lancelot who accepted his magic easily and without question, Merlin still found himself in shock that anyone else would ever be willing to do the same.

"Leon's jealous. He's stuck guarding the witch and her brat all day. Then he gets to sleep for a few hours and go right back to dog duty again. He's so done with it he's not even trying to pretend it's some kind of honour anymore, just a pain. He made us swear to report back him about you, though. Not that it'll be much more than he gets from Gwen or Princess. Soon as the prison guard unlocks your shackles you'll have to pay him a visit."

Merlin smiled bitterly. "I think Leon will be done with his duty before I'm allowed anywhere near that end of the castle."

The grins vanished from the knights' faces.

"Merlin, he tried to kill you." Percival said quietly. "He nearly took the entire castle down just to make sure it happened."

"And the reason he didn't was because I stopped him. I can defend myself. I don't need people coddling me or trying to protect me all the time!"

"For what it's worth, Merlin, after seeing you in action, I'm sure you're a very super special sorcerer with very super special sorcerer powers. But, mate, do us a favour, would you? Wait a month before you go and get yourself killed again? Please? I'm just not sure the taverns can handle a third time right now. I don't think any of us can."

The strained look on Gwaine's face as he tried to keep his voice light held back any response Merlin might have had. Gwen had said much the same, threatening to lock Arthur in a closet if that's what it took for Merlin to actually rest and recover. Gaius had been a bit kinder, if one could call it that. He'd only threatened to lace all his drinks with sleeping draughts so he had no choice _but_ to rest.

Merlin forced the same brightness into his tone. "Two months even, I promise. That is, if you can convince Arthur not to drag me on any hunts in that time..."

"Oh, I think we can manage that..." Elyan agreed slyly. "If you do something for us..."

The other two knights nodded eagerly.

"What?" Merlin felt dread growing in the pit of his stomach. He could only imagine what his friends would come up for him to do.

"Come on, then. Show us a trick."

* * *

The one visitor he hadn't been expecting was one who came to him soon after the knights left. Oswin slipped in after Gaius bid him farewell to go on his rounds, banking on the knights not wanting to risk a permanent ban to try barging in twice in one day, and Merlin being too tired to tolerate a second encounter anyway. Merlin was willing to bet in all the kerfuffle he probably hadn't even noticed the young druid girl hiding in the shadows.

"You're not under house arrest too?" That hardly seemed fair. Even Merlin was, after all, and he hadn't even been on the wrong side of the war, just apparently fighting it the wrong way.

"I am. I needed to see you, though, before I left. We depart in an hour. I thought it would be easier to travel while Tyus was sleeping. He hates horseback riding."

Merlin felt his breathing hitch. No one had told him Morgana and her party were leaving. Why, he'd just spent a half hour with the knights and they hadn't breathed a word, and the subject had certainly come up. Didn't he deserve to know? He was the reason they were still here, wasn't he, because he'd asked that they stay?

"Once word gets back to the slavers about Mordred, none of the members of the household will be safe. No one will dare come near for a time in case the place is cursed, but Tyus and I have to get back and warn them."

"... just you and Tyus?" The others were staying? Merlin didn't even really know why he was so hung up on it. He just knew he needed to talk to Morgana. What happened to her afterwards… well, he wasn't sure what he felt about that. He was certain it wouldn't be his decision to make, whatever that decision happened to be.

"Yes. Morgana has said we can come with her, should the king let them go eventually, that it would make Mordred happy for me to be there, but... I can't do it. What happened to him is her fault, and I can't forget that, nor forgive her. And I don't mean his memory. I know that was you. Frankly sometimes I wish you could replicate it on me so I could forget this whole thing ever happened."

"You're telling me..." Merlin grumbled.

"Gaius offered to have me stay on in Camelot, too, did you know? When the king pardoned me he said I could have my position back. But I can't stay any more than Morgana and Mordred can. I'm as guilty as they. And I have a duty..."

Oswin looked a little lost as she talked, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as him. Merlin thought of her conviction when he'd been enslaved. She'd seemed so sure of herself and what needed to happen back then, so in control. It had to be hard to have your entire belief system ripped out from under you.

"What will you do?"

"Help disperse the others. There are villages we can go to. Some are druids; they'll probably go home. Tyus and I might... we might go back, too. To another group." She smiled thinly. "It wasn't all a waste, right? After all, I did get to poison the king!"

"And to think, most girls your age would be married and producing babies by now!" Merlin quipped in his best crotchety grandmother voice. It wasn't enough for a giggle, but a few of the depressed lines smoothed from her face.

To think your entire life was a waste. Merlin couldn't imagine it. No wonder she'd been so desperate to save her brother. He must have been the only thing she could be sure she'd done right.

A line from her exasperated plea rang in his head. "You said that Mordred and I were the same but opposite. What exactly did you mean?"

"Both of you are, were, willing to give everything you are for the one you think will make you whole. In Mordred's case he gave so much it destroyed him. It nearly destroyed you. But while you were striving for the future, Mordred was haunted by the past. And the past... it can be a particularly difficult ghost to beat."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Sorry about any confusion with chapters. I reformatted the whole thing, combining chapters towards the beginning (I write like a Miltank; my moves just keep getting bigger and bigger as I go on.) So that's why we randomly are having chapter nineteen again.**

**We have reached the end. But guess what? NaNoWriMo! And you know what the best part of NaNo is? ****_I'll actually always update on time_****. Barring extreme circumstances, the fact that I have a time limit means I have to write and upload and not allow depression to make me refuse to exist or else. So yey for that! The poll is still up on my profile because every time I check it it's a tie.**

**Thanks to everyone who has stuck around through the crazy. If you liked it, keep an eye out for more crazy in the next weeks. Even though I'll be working on NaNo, probably a few shorter pieces will sneak their way in as well. Every time I watch an episode I get another prompt stuck in my head…**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

"No."

"Arthur–"

"You heard me last time. She's _not_ coming anywhere near this room again."

"Actually, you said Mordred couldn't come back here."

"It applied to both of them, and you know it."

"Fine, then I'll go there."

"Absolutely not!"

It took another hour of them screaming at each other and finally Merlin threatening to put the guards outside his door in a spelled sleep –"And that's if Gwaine wouldn't just walk me there himself!" "If he wants to ever see the tavern again you'd better hope he knocks you upside the head for even suggesting it!"– for Arthur to give in.

Merlin had been chomping at the bit for the two weeks, ever since he'd woken up, to leave. It had taken eight days just to be allowed out of his room and into the larger physician's chambers, and Gaius and Arthur had put their feet down about him going any further than that. He was beginning to wonder if the guards on the door were there to keep people out or _him_ in.

But he had to see Morgana before whatever decision was to be made about her was made. Still no one would even hint to him what it would be. All he knew was Leon and a half dozen others continued to be stationed round the clock on her door.

As they stepped into the corridors, Gwaine raised an eyebrow comically. "So you can go past the force field on the door. I was beginning to wonder."

"Shut up, Gwaine," retorted Arthur tightly, ignoring how the knight fell into step beside them.

Arthur dogged his steps as Merlin walked determinedly through the castle. Merlin could practically feel the tension rolling off of him. He wondered once again exactly what had been going on between the king and his half-sister while he'd been… indisposed. It was obviously far from reconciliation, at least as far as Arthur seemed to be concerned. Merlin hoped they would at the very least be able to reach some kind of understanding. Even Oswin, who had continued to scoff at Mordred's naivety while relating his plan to Merlin, had admitted that if it had had a prayer of working, it would be the best case they could ever hope for.

The guards came into view before the door. Most of them stood raptly at attention, nervous fear still pervading them even with no activity in all the time they had been posted. A few, including Leon, leaned against the wall looking bored. Leon himself was actually doing so from a seated position, nose deep in a book.

When he heard the sound of their approach, Leon scrambled to his feet, though he didn't look sheepish at all. He raised an eyebrow at Merlin's presence, but addressed Arthur. "Sire? Has something happened?"

"No, everything's fine, Sir Leon. We're just here to have a discussion with Lady Morgana."

Merlin reeled back. "Wai–no. No, you are _not_ coming in."

"Merlin–"

"_No_, Arthur," Merlin repeated. "She hasn't so much as smirked at the guards this whole time, and from I hear, Mordred's more interested in plotting battles with his stuffed horse and his comb than plotting revenge on me."

"Yes, well, sometimes people can be very good at hiding things." They both winced. Merlin had a feeling that was going to be a sore subject for a while. "Sorry," Arthur muttered, looking away.

Merlin sighed, but he didn't back down. "You've had a chance to talk to her." He didn't know if Arthur –or Morgana– had gotten past his "stupid stubborn pride" and taken it, but he'd had one. "I haven't. We… we have some unfinished business we need to attend to. _Alone._"

He didn't have to mention what that was. Their confrontation in the throne room was far from forgettable. Luckily of all the things he and Arthur had discussed, that one had not been one of them. They may have come to the decision that there would be no more secrets between them, but this was between him and Morgana.

"Fine. You have ten minutes. After five I want you to give me a signal that everything is okay in there. No, no arguments, Merlin. If you're going to do this, you're meeting me halfway, and that's the end of it."

Merlin thought about continuing to fight it, but he kept his mouth shut. Halfway was such an improvement over Arthur's usual "my way or not at all" attitude, he knew it was time to stop pushing before he lost the chance altogether. So instead he gave a terse nod.

Arthur finally stepped back, nodding to the guards to allow the servant through. Merlin reached up hesitantly towards the door, unsure whether or not to knock. He ended up with two light taps on the wood, probably barely audible on the other side.

To his right he could hear one of the knights mutter, "Well, there's no need to show a _witch_ courtesy."

"Really. Now she'll know to start preparing one of the blasted curses."

Nothing further followed, so Merlin guessed Arthur had sent a glare at the errant knights in warning.

There was no answer from the room beyond. Merlin pushed the door open anyway, closing it firmly behind him. He supposed he was lucky Arthur hadn't agreed not to come in just to insist the door be left open.

Morgana sat at her table. A piece of parchment was in front of her, and she held a quill in her hand, but the ink on the tip had long since dried. The same set up was next to her along another side of the table, the parchment filled with indiscriminate scribbles. Morgana was looking at it out of the corner of her eye. She looked much more worn than before, her face lined and back hunched.

Other than that, it was strange how familiar she looked in this setting. She wore one of her old dresses, and her hair no longer looked like it housed a murder of crows. She was definitely thinner, the gown hanging loosely in several places. Her old aloof confidence was gone, but Morgana looked as determined as ever as she turned her face up to look at Merlin.

It was disconcertingly comforting how much seeing her looking like her old self put him at ease. He could almost pretend nothing had changed, that the last few years hadn't happened at all.

Almost. Mordred had tried that track, and he would live with the consequences for the rest of his life.

"I'm glad to see you up and about," she said softly, hesitantly, as if unsure she was even allowed to say anything to him anymore. "You had people worried."

Merlin wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he didn't. For all he had fought with Arthur to make it happen, he was as nervous about this encounter as she was. "Where is he?"

Morgana ducked her head, glancing once more at the scribble piece of parchment. "He's in the antechamber. He's taking a nap. He gets tired easily."

For the briefest second Merlin once again felt like he should apologize, but he getting better at ignoring that impulse. If he did apologize for anything it would be that Morgana was going to be the one stuck with re-raising the druid. Although, she had asked for it. "I was surprised to hear Oswin didn't take him with her when she left. She wasn't your biggest fan."

The corner of Morgana's mouth twitched wryly. "I thought she would as well. But she said she had her hands full with one child already. And that it might keep me on track to have to think about what was best for another person instead of only being concerned for my fears."

That plan could go wrong in so many ways. The worst that Morgana could decide to try to raise Mordred as some kind of weapon, even with his magic locked off from him. Merlin was certain had been his good experiences that held him back so long before. Now that he didn't have them anymore, it all depended on what Morgana chose to plant there.

But when Morgana had known Mordred as a child before, he had brought out the best in her. They would just have to trust that he could do it again as a man who forgot he grew up.

He didn't think that worst case scenario would be the one to come to fruition. As she spoke, Merlin could see behind the strain the same look in her eyes that had been in Oswin's. Morgana mourned the loss of her friend. In her mind, Mordred had been the only person to stand beside her through everything. And now he was gone. Within her reach, yet unattainably lost.

"So where will you go from here?"

Morgana shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen to us yet."

Merlin frowned. "Arthur hasn't even given you a hint when you talked to him?"

She scoffed. "I haven't spoken to my dear _brother_ since the day you woke up. He probably would have continued to ignore me then, but Gaius mentioned you were still unconscious and they didn't know when you would wake up. I offered to do a healing charm on you, and well, you heard how Arthur reacted to that."

"But he has you here. He didn't lock you up in the dungeons."

"No, instead he has me locked in my rooms like some kind disobedient child," she snapped back. Her fire was gone as quickly as it had reappeared as she continued, "I offered to leave. I thought banishment was the punishment of choice in this kingdom, right up there with execution."

"Then why don't you go?" Merlin asked, growing a bit bolder after her own outburst. "We both know that a lack of a key could never stop you from leaving any room you didn't want to be in."

It had been bothering him this whole time, and he was sure it had been bothering Arthur too. Because they all knew it didn't matter how many guards he put outside the door or under the window. All Morgana had to do was incant a single spell, and she would be gone in the blink of an eye, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop her. Yet she was still here. Hadn't even, apparently, given thought to escaping in such a fashion.

"Because you asked me not to leave without saying good-bye."

Merlin blinked and found himself sitting down hard in the chair opposite her. Yes, he had said that. But he hadn't expected for everyone to have paid the words so much heed. Arthur had kept his two prisoners out of prison cells and alive and without judgement because Merlin had asked for her to stay. Morgana was putting up with being treated as the worst scum in the world and imprisoned in what was technically her own home with no human contact but a regressed druid. Because Merlin had asked her to.

"You Pendragons are insane, did you know that?"

She smirked, but for the first time it wasn't an expression that promised dire things. "So I've heard."

Arthur pounded on the door, signalling it had been five minutes already (either that or he had been listening through the wood and wasn't pleased to be called insane). Merlin shouted back that everything was fine, hoping his voice came out normal, not plagued by the myriad of emotions tumbling through him. He guessed it did, since no one broke down the door. They sat there in silence for a while. Merlin knew his time was ticking away with every word that went unsaid.

But he wasn't the one who broke the silence in the end. "So is this your good-bye? Should I be packing my bags?"

Merlin had so much more to say than just farewell. He knew he did, and yet none of the words would come. A dozen half-formed thoughts rolled onto his tongue, but he couldn't open his mouth to say any of them. In the end he decided there was really only one question he needed to ask, at least for now. "Do you forgive me?"

Morgana actually looked like she had been expecting such a query, not a hint of surprise on her face. "No, Merlin, I don't."

His heart sank. So that was it then. It didn't matter how much he had apologized. Merlin had really thought he was getting through to her when they had confronted each other there in the throne room. He had been hoping that maybe now she would finally understand.

"I think it will take some time before there is any real forgiveness between any of us. But I'm willing to try if you are."

Merlin smiled, and she returned it, the first genuine smile he'd seen directed towards someone other than Mordred. "It's a deal."

"Do you think… do you think Arthur will ever be willing to do the same?"

Merlin looked her straight in the eye as he answered seriously, "Arthur was ready to forgive you from the moment he saw you take his crown four years. He's just not ready to forgive himself yet for doing it."

He kept his face smooth, not giving any indication he saw the sparkle of tears forming in her eyes. "What do you think he'll decide? Will he let Mordred and I go?"

"Is that what you really want? To leave here?"

"How can I stay? Even if Arthur was to pardon me of everything I've done, my very existence is still outlawed. The people still fear me, despise me. I would be a pariah, an exile who never had the courtesy to leave. Should I keep myself shut up in this room for the rest of my life?"

"This is still your home, Morgana. Your family."

"A home is where you are welcome. I'm not welcome here anymore, Merlin. I haven't been for a long time. And no matter what you say, you cannot deny that Arthur wants nothing to do with me, as is only right of him. And what of you? What will you do? You are just as outcast as I am, Emrys."

She didn't spit the name with vehemence as before, but it still felt like a slap in Merlin's face. Morgana was right, he knew. They had carefully danced around the issue when he spoke to Arthur about his magic. He hadn't been lying when he told the knights the king wasn't going to execute him, but it didn't change the fact that being a sorcerer was still against the law and he was breaking that law with every breath he took.

But Merlin hadn't spent the last nine years in Camelot for nothing. He had hope. It was because he was Emrys that he knew things would not always be this way. And he was sure, now was the time for that freedom to come.

"I haven't been welcome in Camelot since before I even arrived. But when Arthur makes the announcement that the laws against sorcery have been abolished, I will never be more proud to continue to call it home."

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Arthur doesn't deserve you."

Merlin grinned. "No. But really, who does?"

* * *

"You did the right thing."

Merlin joined Arthur on the battlements three days later to watch the retreating figures make their way through the dark. They had decided it was best this way, to avoid anyone who might choose to brave their fears and attack in retribution. Arthur had wanted to lead them out with a contingent, not to protect them but ensure they actually left, but Merlin had guided him away from such a plan. The king was doing well with the new bond of trust between them. It was time he extended it to others as well.

"Could you just say that a few more times? Like a couple hundred? Then maybe I might start to believe it."

"I think you're doing very well, sire. You haven't even sent Leon after them yet."

The blush that spread over Arthur's cheeks in the darkness told Merlin that there was a strong likelihood Leon and a few of the other knights were saddled up and ready to depart at his order. "Do you think she'll ever come back?" he asked quietly.

"I think she wants to. Give it time, Arthur." Morgana hadn't given any such indication that she would return one day, but from their brief conversation then and again when Arthur had finally announced his decision about what to do with her and Mordred, Merlin was sure that was the case. She had said it would time to forgive them and time for them to forgive her. If time was what she wanted, then time they would have. But time didn't have to mean forever.

"Are you going to leave now too?"

Merlin reared back, startled. "Why does everything seem to think I'm going somewhere?"

"You're a sorcerer, Merlin," Arthur pointed out matter-of-factly, keeping his gaze out towards the woods. "Sorcery is against the law, you know. Punishable by death, in fact."

"I've been a sorcerer this whole time, and that's always been the case." Merlin fought to keep his rising panic from his voice. Arthur _wasn't_ going to kill him, that he knew, but did he really want him to leave, after everything? "I don't see any reason to go anywhere."

"That's good. I would hate to have to track you down to give you the news."

"News?" The battle to keep out the squeak that wanted to enter that syllable was probably the hardest one he'd fought in his entire life, including this one they just gotten out of.

"About magic being legalized again. I mean, I'm sure the news would have reached you eventually, but I'll admit I wanted to be there to–"

He was cut off as Merlin threw himself at the king, engulfing him in a hug. He waited for the shove and the order to stop being such a _girl_, but instead Arthur just returned the gesture.

"You know it won't happen right away, right? There's still a lot of work to do," Arthur warned as they drew back from each other.

"I've been waiting all my life. What's a few months more?" Merlin felt like he was content to wait years more if that was necessary. And this time… this time he wouldn't be alone while he did it.

And as he watched the two figures disappear into the woods and felt the swelling warmth in his chest, Merlin was convinced that not being alone was possibly the most important thing of all.


End file.
